


Ice Is Slowly Melting

by rockstarpeach



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, Kid Fic, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-14 01:41:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockstarpeach/pseuds/rockstarpeach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Jensen Ackles is happy. He’s successfully put tragedy behind him and after three years, things are going well, better than he’d have ever thought possible. He’s got a great job, an amazing kid and his boyfriend, Jared is finally moving in.<br/>But when he learns that his deceased husband is in fact alive and well, his perfect plans for the future are thrown out of whack. His life is turned upside down while he tries to figure out what he wants and what he needs, choose between his desires and his obligations.<br/>This is a story of loss, of hope, of tearful reunions and heartfelt goodbyes. It’s a story of three grown men (and one little boy) playing a hard dealt hand with maturity and grace. Mostly though, it’s a story of love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ice Is Slowly Melting

The sharp trill of the phone cuts through the quiet background mumble of the television, an old episode of CSI that Jared had turned on half way through. Jensen’s stirring some crushed tomatoes in a saucepan and he flips his salmon filets one-handed before sliding the skillet into the oven. The phone rings a second time and Jensen swears when he burns his finger on a hot element and tosses the waiting penne into the tomato sauce.

“I got it,” Jared says, coming in from the washroom down the hall and answering the phone on the third ring. He’s running, so his socks slide on the tile floor of the kitchen and he bumps into Jensen, causing a few of the noodles to slosh out onto the stove top. “Sorry,” he mouths to Jensen, cringing. Then, “Hello?”

Jensen runs his finger under some cold water, ignoring Jared’s conversation for the most part until he hears, “Is he okay?” and “I’ll be there soon.”

Then Jensen’s carefully prepared dinner is quickly forgotten as he shuts off the faucet and turns to Jared.

“Who was that?” he asks.

“Adele,” Jared answers, stepping closer and taking Jensen’s hand, smiling and stroking his thumb whisper-soft over Jensen’s palm at the wide eyes he’s met with. “Kyle’s fine,” Jared quickly assures him. “Just an upset stomach or something. Anyway, he wants to come home tonight, so I told her I’d come get him.”

“Shit,” Jensen breathes out and then wipes his hands on the dish towel by the stove. He shuts everything off – because he loves Jared with all his heart, he really does, but Jared can’t cook to save his life and _cannot_ be trusted to make sure the food doesn’t burn while he’s gone – and he grabs his wallet and keys off the kitchen table.

“What are you doing?” Jared asks him, looking between Jensen and the unfinished food.

“I’m going to pick up Kyle?” Jensen asks back, raising one eyebrow as he states the obvious.

“Seriously?” Jared's smile is slanted and his head is slightly cocked. “You don’t think I can handle it? It’s only twelve blocks. I swear I’m not that bad a driver.”

Jensen smiles back, he can’t help it.

“What if he wants me?” he asks anyway, mostly joking. Okay, so it’s possible Jensen is a control freak, especially where Kyle is concerned, but there are _reasons_. He’s been dating Jared seriously for six months now, known him for triple that and Jared’s never been anything but amazing with Kyle, Kyle loves Jared to pieces. But there’s a ridiculous part of Jensen that keeps on screaming that Jared’s not Kyle’s father. Jared can be with them, he can share a life with them, but there's a distance Jensen's been keeping, a line he hasn't been ready to cross. He's been protecting his son, protecting himself.

They’re not weak and they’re not vulnerable, but they’ve been hurt.

“Then he’ll wait three minutes until we get home,” Jared says, rolling his eyes. “Now, turn the oven back on and finish cooking. We’ll be back in ten.”

“Okay,” Jensen sighs, defeated. He puts his keys back down, even as his fingers itch to pick them up again. It’s ridiculous. It’s not like Jared doesn’t pick Kyle up from school half the time, take him to baseball practice and art class and stay home with him when Jensen has to work late. “Yeah, okay.”

Jensen leans up and presses a quick kiss to Jared’s lips before he turns back to his oven. He flicks a few switches, picks up a spoon and listens to the front door open and close.

Damn. 

Jensen had been looking forward to this.

He hasn’t had a full night alone with Jared in almost three weeks. Quickies in the shower and a little light groping in front of the television are great and all, but Jensen had kind of wanted to make Jared _scream_ tonight.

Being the single parent of a seven year old boy doesn’t exactly leave you with a lot of time for yourself, which is why Jensen has been counting the days until sleepover night since the _last_ sleepover night, two months ago.

Oh well.

He puts foil over the pasta and the fish, turns the heat down to low so that they’ll keep warm and quickly tosses a salad of baby greens and some sliced vegetables. He’s just barely got the dressing finished and placed on the table when the front door opens.

“Hey, kiddo,” Jensen says, greeting Kyle in the hallway as he takes off his shoes and drops his overnight bag by the door. “Not feelin’ so hot?”

“We were gonna watch _Transformers_ ,” Kyle whines, like only a little kid who’s feeling under the weather can. “And eat popcorn!”

“Well, I don’t know about popcorn, but I’m pretty sure I can do warm milk,” Jensen tells him, kneeling down to wrap his arms around Kyle while Kyle falls limply against him, rests his head on Jensen’s shoulder. He doesn’t feel warm, might just be something he ate. But Jensen’s already mentally booking Monday morning off work, in case Kyle’s still not feeling better and Jensen needs to take him to the doctor.

“And _Transformers_ ,” Jared says from behind Kyle, placing a hand on his back.

Kyle pulls back and looks up at Jared, his arms still wrapped around Jensen’s neck.

“If it’s okay with your dad, I think you can sleep in with us tonight. You can watch the movie on the TV in there while you fall asleep. Sound good?”

“Yeah!” Kyle cheers, perking up considerably as he turns his wide eyes to Jensen. “Can I, Dad?”

And it’s not like Jensen can really say no to that without looking like the bad guy. So he shoots Jared a scowl on principle and then turns Kyle back towards him, smiling.

“Sure, buddy. Go wash up and get your PJs on. I’ll be right in.”

“Yay!” Kyle cheers and waits for Jensen to kiss him on the forehead before he runs off down the hall faster than he probably should. Jensen really hopes he doesn’t throw up all over the carpet.

There’s quiet in the kitchen as Jensen heats up some milk on the stove, adds a little freshly ground cinnamon and nutmeg and takes the package of children’s Gravol from the cupboard.

“I got it,” Jared says, taking the mug out of Jensen’s right hand and the tablet out of his left. 

“Jared…”

“I said I got it,” Jared tells him again. “Seriously, Jensen. You need to start trusting me. Especially if you want me to live here full-time with you guys.”

“I do,” he says, without hesitation. “You know I do.” Jensen wouldn’t have asked Jared to move into their house if he didn’t. He wouldn’t let just anybody sleep in the room next to his son’s.

Jared does still have an apartment across town, still spends a couple of nights a week on his own, but that’s only until his lease is up, in three months.

“I know you trust me not to lose him in the park or let him choke on a chicken bone. But… But Jensen, we’re not just _dating_ anymore. I’m in your life, and I’m in Kyle’s life, and I’m there because I _want_ to be. You need to let me start taking care of things like this. I love him and trust me, I hate to see him sick and hurt just as much as you do. And believe it or not, I can handle the making it better part. You don’t need to do it all yourself. He’s never going to be comfortable with who I am in his life until you are. So please. Let me give it a try.”

Jared is right, of course. The problem is, there’s a part of Jensen that wants that distance. _Needs_ it. Misha’s been gone for a long time, died more than three years ago. Kyle barely remembers him. He’s more a character in the bedtime stories Jensen tells, than he is the memory of a real person. A real _father_.

And maybe Jensen’s an asshole, but the bottom line is, for as much as Jensen and Kyle both love Jared, Jared is back-up. Jared isn’t Kyle’s dad and Jensen doesn’t want him to be.

“I’m his dad,” Jensen whispers, looking past Jared and down the hall.

“And I’m not,” Jared snaps, voice growing cold and tight. “I’m never going to be. I’m not your husband. He’s gone and I’m sorry about that, I truly am. And I love you and Kyle both enough to put up with a lot of shit, Jensen, but I’m sick of being compared to someone I can never live up to.”

“Jared…”

“Are you gonna let me do this or not?” Jared cuts him off, gesturing with his full hands.

“Yeah,” Jensen agrees. “Yeah, of course. Go ahead.”

Jared gives him a jerky nod and then turns his back, stalks out of the kitchen and down the hall to his bedroom.

Jensen waits.

Waits for five silent minutes, listening as best he can and hearing nothing, until the theme on the _Transformers_ DVD starts up. It’s another ten minutes before Jared reappears in the kitchen, empty milk cup in his hand.

“He’s fine,” Jared tells him, a little coldly as he sits down at the table across from Jensen. “Looks good,” he says, nodding at the food that Jensen has put out for them. It was supposed to be their romantic dinner, served up on the good plates, with real silver and cloth napkins, between flowers and unlit candles.

“Jared, I’m sorry,” Jensen says as Jared stabs the tines of his fork through four noodles. “There’s nobody in the world I trust with Kyle more than I trust you. I just… get kind of crazy, sometimes.”

“It’s okay,” Jared tells him, takes a bite and even though Jensen knows the pasta has been warming too long and it’s half way to mushy, Jared smiles. “Tastes great.”

“It tastes like shit,” Jensen says, straight-faced and Jared snorts. “And it’s not okay. I’m not comparing you to… to anyone. Really, I don’t expect you to be anyone but you. I wouldn’t love you if you were anyone else. And I do love you, Jared. Fuck, I love you.”

“I know you do,” Jared answers, smiling at him and eating some of the fish. It’s better than the pasta, but still a little dry. “And I love you guys. But do you think we maybe jumped the gun on the whole co-habitation thing?”

Jensen dumbly shakes his head, slowly because no, he doesn’t think they did. If Jared does though, well, that’s fair. He knows shacking up with a single father and a second grader can be a lot of responsibility that a previously carefree thirty year old might not be ready for.

“Shit,” he finally says, after Jared just _stares_ at him for several long seconds. Like he really thinks maybe they did make a mistake, like he wants Jensen to agree with him. “Shit, did I… did you not want this?” He knows he did most of the talking when Jared agreed to move in last month. He remembers it was mostly ‘It’ll be great, I promise, we’ll get so much more time together, Kyle and I both love having you here and we’ll save so much money’ to Jared’s, ‘This is a big step, I don’t want to intrude, are you sure?’

“I want this, Jensen,” Jared assures him. “More than I’ve ever wanted any relationship, hang-ups and all. But only if you want it, too. And it’s okay if we moved too fast, if we need to take a step back. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait.”

“Fuck that,” Jensen almost growls, puts his fork down and pushes his plate aside. “Do you have any idea what it took for me to ask you to… Shit, Jared. Don’t back out on us now. Please.” It’s sort of scary how much he wants Jared in his life, even after such a short time. Jensen sort of hates that it’s scary, when it should just be happy, exciting. It would have been, once upon a time.

“Nah,” Jared says, smiling as he kicks his foot out so his calf is pressed against Jensen’s under the table. “Pretty sure you guys are stuck with me.”

“Are you finished eating?” Jensen asks, abruptly changing the topic. He takes the fork out of Jared’s hand and tosses it down on the table and Jared doesn’t so much as blink. “This sucks ass, anyway.”

“It’s great,” Jared tells him, again. He licks his lips and leans forward. “But I’m sure we can heat it up later, if you had something else in mind.” Jared knocks the outside of his knee against the inside of Jensen’s and it doesn’t take Jensen longer than ten seconds to pull Jared up from the table and steer them into the living room. When the backs of Jared’s legs hit the couch, Jensen gently eases him down, then falls over top of him, pinning him in place.

Jared’s arms and legs open wide for Jensen to slide into, his lips press to Jensen’s and his hands clench tight around Jensen’s back as they settle together, buck and writhe to an off-rhythm of harsh, needy breaths.

One of the best things about Jensen and Jared, in Jensen’s opinion, is that they can go from zero to horny in about three seconds flat. And while sex isn’t the solution to everything – isn’t the solution to much, really – it sure as fuck doesn’t hurt. And when the inclination strikes, everything else pretty much takes a backseat. Because… Well, once you’ve seen Jared naked and spread out, you’d definitely get it.

Jared? Has _killer_ legs. They’re pretty much the entire reason Jensen put out on their third date.

***  
_  
Jensen isn’t planning on sleeping with Jared this soon._

 _Okay, so it’s not exactly_ soon _, given that he’s known the guy for six months and they’ve been on two dates and he’s been known to sleep with people a lot sooner than that. Hell, he slept with Misha before they even knew each other’s last names and they ended up getting married, so he knows that rushing into things can absolutely work out for the better._

_But glaciers move faster than he’s been moving with Jared, so far. It’s been important to Jensen that he take his time, make sure he’s ready, because he really thinks the two of them could have something special. And he doesn’t want to fuck that up by moving too fast, screwing up the balance that’s been working so well for them._

_And they_ are _moving slowly. They’re formally dating now, after a summer long flirtation, but Jensen is still looking to keep it casual. He likes Jared. He_ really _likes Jared, but with the exception of one drunken labour day weekend that he deeply regrets, he hasn’t been intimate with anyone in a really long time._

_And he has Kyle to think of, not just himself._

_Tonight is their third date and it’s a Halloween party. Jensen’s friend Matt is hosting and he’d been a little hesitant to invite Jared to meet his friends this early, but loud music and free-flowing alcohol is probably the best setting Jensen can imagine, for something like this._

_Turns out, he needn’t have bothered worrying about it. They don’t even make it out of Jared’s apartment, that night._

_When Jensen knocks on the door to pick him up, (wearing his best suit, because he’s lazy and he likes to think he’s cool, so he usually goes dressed as James Bond) he’s greeted with an image that will fuel his fantasies for years to come._

_Jared stands in the hallway, tall and dark and beautiful, long hair teased at the front and swooped back into the best approximation of a beehive he can manage. He’s wearing eyeliner. Thick, black eyeliner and… false eyelashes? No, no it’s just mascara. Fuck, Jared has nice eyelashes._

_Jensen’s eyes start to sweep down, take in Jared’s eager smile. He’s wearing lipstick, he has to be. His lips are glossy and pink and full and they curl up over his teeth, make Jensen want to chase them with his tongue._

_Jared has a great body. Jensen noticed that about him the first time they met. And Jensen’s favourite part about Jared’s body, besides his ass of course, is his legs. Jared has absolutely phenomenal legs. They’re shaved. Fucking_ shaved _. And since he’s wearing a mini-skirt tonight, Jensen has a better opportunity to check out those legs (and that ass) than he ever has before._

_It’s blue, the skirt. Well, dress. It’s pale blue, cuts his thighs just high enough to be on the verge of obscene. The sleeves are long, come down almost as far as the skirt does when he lets an arm fall to his side. The neck is a shallow, off-centred V, lined in black and Jensen wants to bite it, pull it down to expose more of Jared’s smooth, perfect skin._

_He’s wearing a stethoscope around his neck._

_And he looks about as ready to eat Jensen whole as Jensen feels about Jared. Which means they’re on the same page. Good._

_“Jared,” Jensen manages, nearly choking on his tongue. He hadn’t planned on sleeping with Jared this soon, but plans can be adjusted. And he’s not even a Star Trek fan._

_“Nurse Chapel,” Jared corrects. “’Cause I’m a nurse, so I figured…” He steps back to let Jensen inside and when he closes the door behind him, Jared actually fucking_ spins _, with his arms up by his shoulders so his skirt rides even higher._

 _Jensen_ whimpers _. Jared laughs._

_“You like?”_

_They’ve kissed before. At the end of their first date and then halfway through their second, but that was nothing like what happens next._

_Jensen practically attacks Jared, guides them on unsteady feet back to Jared’s bedroom._

_Jared rides him that night, straddled across Jensen’s lap with his dress still on, skirt fanned out over his thighs as they work him up and down on Jensen’s cock. When Jared comes, it’s with only a few swipes of Jensen’s fist over his dick, coating the underside of the skirt it’s been tenting._

_Jensen feels like he’s been coming since he first walked in the door. And that’s not even because he hasn’t been laid in a year and a half. But when he finally does let go, he doesn’t let Jared pull off, wraps his arms around Jared’s back and rolls them over, so he’s on top._

_“You’re heavy,” Jensen explains. “And you really need to get this costume dry cleaned. We’re_ so _going to need it again.”_

_Jared laughs and settles back, circles Jensen in his arms so they’re both comfortable._

_“If that’s the reaction I get every time I put this on,” Jared says, kissing the top of Jensen’s head, “I might need to buy more than one.”_

_Jared doesn’t end up buying more than one. And he doesn’t wear the one he has very often. It hangs in his closet, tucked in behind his shirts and suits and work scrubs and it only comes out on special occasions._

_Jensen is more than okay with that._  
  
***

Jensen feels Jared’s cock harden under him, pressing up against his belly as he works quickly to unfasten Jared’s pants, then his own. They squirm and kick, working their pants down as they kiss and bite at each other’s mouths, fists grabbing tight to shirts and hair and hot skin.

“Kyle…” Jensen pants out, turning his head toward the bedroom after they’re both naked from the waist down, hard and waiting.

“Sleeping,” Jared tells him. “He was almost there when I left him. I closed the door.”

Jensen nods in agreement as he nudges Jared’s thighs that little bit further apart and settles between them, presses the head of his cock to Jared’s entrance and presses inside.

He goes slow, _so fucking slow_ because sure, they just did this this morning, up against the wall in the hallway in between dropping Kyle off at school and Jared leaving for work, but he’s still using nothing but his pre-come for lube. Jared can take it, he knows that from experience, but he doesn’t want to hurt him.

“I love you,” Jensen says, between kisses to Jared’s lips and neck and jaw, when he’s finally all the way in. “God, you don’t even know.”

Shit, he’s never sappy like this. Well, hardly ever. But he can’t help it. Jared’s talk about moving too fast freaked him out and now Jensen’s mind is filling up with all sorts of crazy fantasies of Jared leaving him. Deciding that Jensen’s not worth all the bullshit he puts Jared through.

“I love you too,” Jared whispers. He bucks up against him and tightens his legs around Jensen’s hips, thrusts into Jensen’s fingers around his cock and it’s not long before he comes, warm spend over their abdomens and cooling against coarse hair.

Jensen strokes Jared through his climax, pumps his hips a few more times until he comes himself and when he’s done, he pulls Jared close as he rolls to the side. Jared sucks in a sharp breath when Jensen pulls free and Jensen slides two fingers between Jared’s cheeks, pushes them inside as he presses Jared against the back of the couch and rests his head on Jared’s chest.

“I’ll do better,” Jensen promises. He listens to Jared’s breathing even out and then starts to nibble along Jared’s ear. “I swear. If I’ve ever made you feel like you weren’t enough, I’ll do better.”

“Jensen,” Jared sighs, wraps his arm around Jensen’s shoulder and pulls him closer. “I just want to make you happy.”

“You always make me happy,” Jensen mumbles into Jared’s neck.

“Awww,” Jared teases, tickles his fingers just under Jensen’s exposed ribs, where he’s most sensitive. “Such a sap.”

“Okay, maybe not _always_ ,” Jensen grumbles, squirming and smacking at Jared’s hand.

He hears a rapid succession of gunfire coming from the television in his bedroom and he tenses for a moment, relaxes again when Kyle doesn’t wake. He tugs at the blanket that’s draped over the arm of the couch and covers them up, just in case.

“Liar,” Jared softly teases, laughing out loud before pressing a soft kiss to the top of Jensen’s head.

And yeah, okay. Jensen can’t really say anything to that, because Jared’s right. Even when Jared makes him crazy, he always makes Jensen happy.

***

“I’m going out of town next week,” Jensen tells Jared and Kyle over a dinner of take-out pizza on a Tuesday night.

Tuesday is pizza night. The parlour across the street has a two for one special on Tuesdays and they always get one extra pepperoni and one goat cheese and spinach. Jared pretends he likes the goat cheese, even after a year and a half of eating pizza together, and Jensen pretends to believe him.

“How long? Where you going?” Jared asks, grabbing hold of Jensen’s wrist and pulling the slice of pizza he’s holding close enough to take a bite out of it.

Jensen snorts and leaves the rest of the slice on Jared’s plate before he steals the pepperoni slice out of Jared’s hand.

“Three days,” he answers. “Maybe four.” It’s not often he has to travel for work. He actually works from home, about half the time. Has for a few years, now.

He’s head of his department now, he works in imports for one of the major foodstuffs manufacturers in the country, and most of his job is reading ingredients, adding up calories, counting vitamins and ticking boxes. Once in a while, he flies down to Argentina to personally oversee the soybean harvest or Columbia to make sure the coffee crop is actually being sown by adults making a fair wage.

This time though, he’s headed north.

“Alberta. The beef is probably safer than ours, but they need someone up there for some face time with the health inspector.”

Jared nods and Kyle swallows his bite of garlic bread.

“Should I call Grandma and Grandpa?” he asks.

“I’ll help him pack,” Jared offers. Misha’s parents don’t live too far away from them – it’s one of the reasons Jensen bought their current house – so in the past he’s always stayed with them whenever Jensen was out of town. Or even just had to work late, or had a dentist appointment or, God forbid, an actual social engagement.

“No need,” Jensen says. “Kyle, you’re gonna stay here with Jared.”

“Seriously?” Kyle asks, nearly jumping out of his chair. Jensen laughs and shakes his head. Kyle loves it when he gets to spend time alone with Jared. He’s the ‘fun one’, to Jensen’s disciplinarian. It’s bullshit, of course. Jared doesn’t let him get away with as much as Kyle likes to think, and Jensen’s plenty fun, thank you very much. But Kyle’s only seven and Jared hasn’t ever been in a position to send Kyle to his room or tell him he can’t go to his friend’s house, so his perception’s a little skewed.

“Yes, kid, seriously. You guys will have fun. Right Jared?”

“Yeah, of course,” Jared agrees, even though Jensen knows he’ll have to work around it. Jared’s a nurse at a senior’s home, across town. It’s a smaller home and Jared is in charge of distributing the meds. There are only two other people there that are qualified to do his job so Jensen knows it’s going to be tough rearranging his schedule. But this is what Jared wants, more responsibility when it comes to Kyle, and he’s right. 

“Yay!” Kyle cheers. “Can we stay up late and have ice cream with gummy bears for dinner and watch movies Dad says are too scary?”

Jensen tries not to laugh, but Jared doesn’t bother holding it in.

“Hey,” Jensen says, doing his best to scowl. “It’s not party time, just because Dad’s out of town. And you can go ahead and remember that rule for when you’re a teenager, too.”

“Yeah,” Jared agrees, still smiling. “But more importantly, wait until your dad can’t hear you, before you start planning the party.”

“You know, it’s not too late for me to cancel this trip,” Jensen warns, but he can’t help the way his lips are curling tight at the corner. They can both see he’s trying to keep a straight face, and failing.

“Aww, come on, Dad,” Jared wheedles. “We’ll be good. Promise.”

Kyle nods eagerly and fiddles with one of his carrot sticks.

Jensen sighs and rolls his eyes. “You two are impossible. Fine, I’m trusting you. But I’ll be calling you every night, to check your homework. And you,” he says, pointing at Jared, “better cook something green. Leafy green, not gummy green.”

“Spoilsport,” Jared says. He sticks out his tongue and Kyle laughs, but then Jensen narrows his eyes, and Kyle stuffs his carrot into his mouth.

After they finish eating Kyle runs off to his bedroom to finish his homework and Jared brings the pizza boxes out to the recycling in the garage, while Jensen washes the dishes. It's so sickeningly domestic, it's really pretty perfect. Jensen loves that this is his life.

“You’re okay with this, right?” Jensen asks, when Jared comes back inside. “You staying here with Kyle? Taking care of him?”

Jared just smiles and shakes his head, crosses the kitchen and wraps his arms around Jensen.

“We’ll be fine,” he insists.

Yeah, Jensen knows they will.

***

A quick glance at the clock on the nightstand tells Jensen that it’s pushing eleven thirty when he hears the front door open and close. Honestly, he hadn’t even been sure that Jared would be coming by tonight, but it’s a pleasant surprise. He’d gone out to see a movie and play some poker with some friends from work, and usually at the end of a night like that, it was so late he’d just go back to his place, rather than wake Jensen up.

It looks like they either skipped the movie tonight, or Chad threw up all over the chips again, because it’s hours before they usually call it quits.

Jensen idly scratches the nail of his thumb over his bare chest and reads the same paragraph three times as he listens to Jared putter around in the kitchen. Now that he knows Jared’s home, he’s not all that interested in reading anymore. Mostly, he’s picturing the way Jared’s shirt rides up when he stretches for a glass on the top shelf and the way his ass looks when he bends over to get ice out of the freezer, so by the time the bedroom door opens and Jared slips inside, Jensen’s practically forgotten what his book is even about. Jared can be very distracting, even when Jensen can’t actually see him.

“Hey, you,” he says, the words coming out a slow drawl as he folds his book closed and puts it down on the table. Jared’s leaning against the doorframe with an easy smile as he looks Jensen up and down.

“Mmm,” he says, pushing off the wall and stalking slowly toward the bed. “Sexy glasses.”

Jensen ducks his head and rolls his eyes. He doesn’t wear his glasses often, mostly just for reading at night, after he’s taken his contacts out for the day, but they’re like fuckin’ Viagra for Jared.

“You’re back early,” Jensen says, watching as Jared strips out of his t-shirt and jeans. His eyes maybe linger a little over Jared’s middle, the way his waist tapers in and golden skin stretches taut over hard lines of muscle. He’s got a thin trail of dark hair that starts at his navel and leads down, down past his boxers and when Jensen licks his lips and swallows, he hears Jared chuckle.

“Like what you see?” Jared asks, as he teases the waistband of his underwear past his hips.

If there’s one thing Jared’s not, it’s lacking in self-confidence. Oh, he’s not arrogant, he just looks good and he knows it. And he knows he drives Jensen crazy, the way he turns slightly and shimmies his hips, the way the perfectly rounded cheeks of his ass lengthen and bunch as he bends over to slip his shorts down his legs and off.

But yeah, Jensen strokes Jared’s ego plenty, so this time he just shrugs, smirks and picks up his book again.

“’S alright, I guess,” he says, biting back a smile.

Before he can even find his place and pretend to start reading, Jared has launched himself onto the bed, landing half on top of Jensen and knocking the wind out of them both. His book plonks to the floor, forgotten.

“I’ll show you _alright_ ” Jared threatens, and then they’re both laughing breathlessly as Jared’s fingers dig into Jensen’s ticklish sides and he plants a raspberry on Jensen’s neck.

“Okay!” Jensen gasps, trying to keep it down as much as he can. Kyle’s fast asleep two doors down and hopefully he’ll stay that way. Jared’s hard cock is pressing into Jensen’s thigh, slick at the tip and it feels too good to waste. “Okay, fine. Better than alright.”

Jared stops his assault and looks down at Jensen with a raised eyebrow.

“How much better?”

“Hmm,” Jensen hums, appraisingly, as he shoves Jared back a little and pretends to look him over. “Like… two better?”

“Oh yeah?” Jared challenges. He sits up enough to quickly rid Jensen of his pyjama bottoms, leaving him naked on top of the covers. He wraps one huge fist around Jensen’s rapidly hardening cock and squeezes just enough, twists his wrist and pulls. Jensen’s eyes roll back and he bends his knee up, spreading his thighs to give Jared better access. “How’s that? Better than _two better_?”

“Yeah,” Jensen agrees, nodding his head frantically while Jared continues to pump him. He crawls over top and settles between Jensen’s legs, thrusts down so his own erection slides up against Jensen’s where it’s peeking out from Jared’s grasp. “Yeah, that’s… gotta be a three, at least. Probably four.”

“Oh my God, _shut up_ ” Jared growls. “That joke died like, five minutes ago.”

Jensen lets out a soft chuckle and reaches to take off his glasses, but Jared’s hand on his forearm stops him.

“Leave them on,” he orders, a husky whisper straight into Jensen’s ear. Jensen shivers and bucks up into Jared and he smiles when he hears Jared’s whispered curse.

He lets go of Jensen’s cock then and his hand slides lower, back so that the tip of his middle finger circles Jensen’s rim. He pushes, slowly, just a little and Jensen whimpers, spreads his legs a little more to ease the way. He slides a hand between them, wraps it around Jared’s cock and presses the pad of his thumb to the slit. Jared hisses and closes his eyes, slips his finger inside Jensen all the way.

He expects Jared to go for the lube, slick his fingers up so he can add a second and a third, but he doesn’t. He just crooks the middle one slightly, curls the rest around Jensen’s cheeks and rocks his body down, so their cocks slide together. 

The drag is slow at first, stilted and rough because it’s a little too dry, but soon enough they’re moving faster, grinding together through the slick of sweat and pre-come. Jensen could do this for hours. Fuck, he loves the feel of Jared against him, on top of him. He loves the way they fit together, the lazy glide of skin on skin, loves how warm it feels, how right it is to be wrapped up in each other like this.

Yeah, Jensen could do this for hours, but Jared’s never been able to hold out that long. Jensen likes to tease that it’s his attention deficit disorder, he can’t even concentrate on _sex_ for more than a few minutes, but truthfully Jensen loves it. Sometimes he’ll get Jared off as quickly as he can, just so he can take his time getting him hard again.

He knows Jared’s getting close, feels the way his thrusts are speeding up, the way his finger curves and probes, looking for Jensen’s prostate. His breathing is getting more ragged and he’s looking down at Jensen with an open mouth, lips starting to curl. His orgasm face is absolutely ridiculous. Jensen adores it.

He speeds up the motion of his own hips, wraps his fist tighter around both their cocks and strips faster, tries to follow Jared over the edge, but he doesn’t quite make it.

“Fuuuuck,” Jared groans, hips jerking a few final times before they go still. “Fuck,” he says again, after he’s had a few seconds to catch his breath. He slips his hand free from between Jensen’s legs and flops over onto his back, completely spent. 

Jensen’s chest rumbles, a low sort of growl and he narrows his eyes as he pushes himself up on one elbow to face Jared.

“Not finished,” he says, and then sits up completely. He throws one leg over Jared’s chest and scoots forward so his knees are bracing Jared’s head, and Jared smiles up at him, all lazy and satisfied.

Jensen is neither lazy nor satisfied, so he levers himself up to point his aching prick to Jared’s beautiful lips and Jared opens up for him easily, lets Jensen sink all the way in like he was made for it.

He doesn’t take his time, just pistons back and forth while he cups Jared’s face in one hand, pulling almost all the way out on every third or fourth stroke for Jared to take a breath. Jensen’s thrusting in so far, his pelvis pressing up against Jared’s nose and the head of his cock stuffed halfway down Jared’s throat, but Jared’s not complaining.

It feels so good, the soft scrape of Jared’s teeth along his shaft, the way his throat convulses and tightens as he gags and when he comes, salty and pungent along Jared’s tongue, he just keeps on taking it all.

“Ngh,” Jensen grunts as he pulls free and flops himself down on the bed next to Jared. “Well, that was a fun surprise. I wasn’t even expecting you tonight. What’s the occasion?”

“Gave my landlord my two months notice, today,” Jared says, turning his head to look at Jensen. His lazy smile grows until his dimples break through and Jensen feels light and giddy. “We’ll officially be shacking up together on August first.”

“Hmm,” Jensen says, nodding as he reaches over the grab the box of tissues off the table. “Guess I better ask my other boyfriends for their keys back, then.”

Jared laughs out loud at that as he wipes off his belly, then throws the used tissue at Jensen’s head.

“You’re an asshole,” he says, then gets up and grabs a pair of flannel pants from the dresser. “I got pizza pockets in the oven. You want any?”

“Nah, I’m good. Water, though?”

“No problem,” Jared answers and turns to open the door.

“Hey Jared?” Jensen calls, and Jared turns back. “I’m really glad we’re doing this.”

“Yeah,” Jared says. His eyes are bright and easy and his voice sounds like home. “Yeah, me too.”

***

Jensen’s home phone rings at two o’clock in the afternoon, the following Monday.

It’s probably Jared, he figures, calling to find out what, if anything, Jensen’s planning for supper, or maybe to ask if he wants anything from the store on his way home. Maybe he’s calling for phone sex, Jensen thinks hopefully. He’s still got over an hour before he has to pick Kyle up from school.

He finishes up the next couple of sentences on the email he’s writing to a co-worker and then grabs the phone from his desk.

It’s not Jared.

***

Forty-five minutes later Jensen is standing in the hospital waiting room, staring at the partially closed door to a private recovery room.

It’s nice, for a hospital. The walls are painted in a warm beige, with deep cherry accents on the doorframes. There’s a fireplace, a television and the seating is made up of couches and lounge chairs. The last time he was at a hospital was when Kyle broke his nose ice skating two years ago, and it didn’t look anything like this.

Even the door he’s staring at is nice. It’s painted cream, with a scratched steel handle and there’s a stencilled pattern traced along the edges, leaves, or something floral, in deep greens and maroons. 

Some guy on a pair of crutches ambles by him for the fourth time and the nurse at his arm smiles in encouragement. He’s been standing in the same spot for five solid minutes and he distantly thinks that he should push the door open and walk through it. He wants to do that. He even tries, but he can’t move his hand. He can’t _feel_ his hand. He can’t feel much of anything, actually.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to find on the other side of that door, he’s half scared to find out, because it can’t be what they told him. It _can’t_ be.

Misha is dead.

Misha’s plane went down just off the coast of Malaysia, on their way to Jambi back in 2010 and all eighteen passengers, plus two pilots, were lost at sea and presumed dead. Misha was _dead_.

Except, some guy on the phone named Officer Marcus McMillan just told Jensen he’s not. 

Now, he’s not.

They found him. Misha and four others, malnourished, with several badly-set broken bones and more than a few rotted teeth, but otherwise healthy. Alive. _Alive_ , after three years, along a sheltered cove on the north side of a small Indonesian island.

It’s impossible, but apparently it’s true.

Jensen takes a deep breath and opens the door.

***

 _“A year?!” Jensen shouts, coughing and smacking at his chest as a sip of water goes down wrong. “Tell me I heard that wrong. Tell me you’re not seriously saying that you’re leaving us for a_ fucking _year.”_

_“Jensen,” Misha says, irritatingly calm for someone who’s basically just said that he’s moving to the other side of the world, but don’t worry, because he’ll call every Sunday. “Keep your voice down.”_

_He glances towards the stairs, to Kyle’s open bedroom door and Jensen scowls, but sighs and nods in agreement. The kid just fell asleep half an hour ago and Jensen’s not in the mood to read “If I Ran the Circus” another four times tonight._

_“Fine, sorry. But come on, Misha. A year? You can’t really think that’s okay.”_

_“You’re telling me it’s not okay?” Misha challenges, with a raised eyebrow. “That you’re not going to let me?”_

_“Don’t,” Jensen orders, not in the mood for Misha’s passive-aggressive bullshit at the moment. “It’s your decision, we both know that, but it impacts us, too. We’re the ones who’re going to have to get by without you, while you’re off… feeding Indonesian babies, or whatever.”_

_“Actually, I’ll be helping to build a pediatric health care centre, but I imagine there might be some babies who could use a bottle or two. We’ll see how much free time I have.”_

_“Misha, come on. That’s great for you. I know you’re into helping people and that’s… I love you for that. You’ve got such a big heart and you care so much. But you going away, it doesn’t affect just you. It’s going to be hard on Kyle and I. We’re going to miss you.”_

_“I’ll miss you, too.”_

_“Yeah, but it’s more than just that. It’s going to affect more than just our hearts. We won’t have your income anymore, so we’ll have to cut back on spending. Which, I don’t know how we’re going to manage that, considering we’re going to need daycare, or a babysitter or something, since you won’t be able to be with Kyle after school anymore. Without you here, I’m gonna have to do everything on my own. All the cooking and the cleaning and banking and shopping and the driving to art classes and trips to the dentist and the shit that barely gets done around here with the two of us, I’ll be doing all that on my own. I’ll basically be raising Kyle_ on my own _. And he’s only_ four _.”_

_Misha nods and he bites his lip. His eyes skitter to the floor for a moment and for the first time since Misha brought this idea up two months ago, he looks uncertain._

_“I know I’m putting a lot of extra responsibility on you. And I know I’m going to miss a lot. I’m going to go crazy not seeing you guys every day, not being there to tuck Kyle in or kiss you good morning. But I can call you all the time. We can Skype, I can come home for Christmas and two weeks in the summer. I’ll never be gone longer than four months at a stretch, we’ll write and you’ll send me care packages.” Misha smiles then, a small smile, encouraging Jensen to join him. Jensen doesn’t._

_“You really want to do this,” Jensen says. It’s not a question. He knows Misha does. He volunteered for the Peace Corps once before, straight out of college. He spent two years in Jordan, helping to construct irrigation systems on small farms. He’s always said that after having Kyle and marrying Jensen, it was the most rewarding experience of his life._

_“I do. It’s important work.”_

_“And you can’t find important work to do around here? Close to your family?”_

_“Jensen,” Misha sighs and leans forward across the table to straighten out the pamphlets and loose sheets of paper that had come in the mail today. “You really don’t want me to go.”_

_“No,” Jensen agrees. “I really don’t.” He lets out a sharp, frustrated breath and curls his hand into a fist to gently pound it against the kitchen table a few times. “But. I don’t want to stop you from following your dreams. It won’t be easy, but if it’s something you have your heart set on, we can find a way to make it work.”_

_“Oh, sure,” Misha grumbles. “Be all sweet and reasonable and selfless. Make me look like a jerk.”_

_Jensen finally does smile, at that._

_“If it helps,” Jensen offers, “I’m gonna hold a grudge. You’re gonna owe me, big time. After you get back, we’re talkin’ breakfasts in bed, you doing_ all _the laundry and of course, there will be sex.”_

_Misha laughs and puts his hand on top of Jensen’s, on the table._

_“There’s always sex.”_

_“Yeah, but you’re gonna have to do all the kinky shit I like and you don’t get to bitch about it.”_

_Misha laughs even harder at that, because they both know that between the two of them, Misha is definitely the more adventurous one in the bedroom. He’s still not crazy about the idea of Misha taking off like this, but he doesn’t want to be the guy who stops his husband from living his life the way he wants. It’s only a year. It’ll be over before they know it._

***

Jensen makes it two steps into the room before he realises that his eyes are closed.

He opens them slowly, blinks to adjust to the bright sunlight the open curtains are letting in. The room is yellow, small and it smells like lilacs.

And Misha is smiling at him.

He’s lying on the bed in a hospital gown, his hair is sticking out in little spikes in between where it’s flattened to his head and his eyes are so fucking blue they don’t even look real and he’s smiling at Jensen.

He’s got an IV running from his arm to a drip stand next to the bed and the blankets are bunched and messed up underneath him and he’s way too skinny, knees and wrists bony protrusions under his tan skin and he’s _smiling_.

He looks good. Well, he looks tired, there are huge, dark circles under his eyes and he could definitely put on a few pounds, but he looks happy and he’s got the right number of fingers and he’s looking surprisingly well-groomed for someone who spent the past three years on a deserted island.

“I look good, I know,” Misha tells him, running a hand through his messy hair, then over the scruff of what is clearly a recently shaved beard. “One of the nurses turned out to be pretty handy with a pair of scissors and a Bic.”

God, his voice. It’s rough, scratchy like he hasn’t used it in a while but it’s strong and it’s real and it curls around Jensen’s heart and squeezes.

Jensen feels dizzy. He can’t breathe and his legs feel like jelly and he’s _got_ to be hallucinating. His vision blurs and then goes black, he flails his arm out to grab for the chair he’d seen by the door but it’s too late. His legs give out on him and he stumbles, falls to the floor in a heap.

The next thing he knows he’s got hands gripping at his biceps to hold him straight, as Misha helps him stand, helps him walk on shaking legs. Jensen grasps desperately with his fingers, winds up with two tight fistfuls of pale blue cotton sleeves and he doesn’t let go, not even when Misha sits down next to him on the bed.

He still hasn’t said anything. Misha’s fingers are still resting lightly on his upper arms and Jensen’s clenched knuckles are a hair’s breadth from the skin of Misha’s wrists, but he hasn’t touched him yet. Because if he touches him, Misha might disappear.

Jensen’s had this dream, before.

He opens his mouth and sucks in a harsh, shaky breath. He wants to talk, wants to tell Misha how much he’s missed him, how happy he is to have him back. He wants to ask where he’s been, _how_ he’s been, how he feels and if he needs anything. He wants to say _hi_ at the very least. But no sound comes out.

His lips start to tremble and he can feel his eyes prickle with tears that don’t take long to spill over.

“Hey,” Misha says softly, reaching up to wipe away the wet track across Jensen’s left cheek. The touch is like an electrical shock, jarring. It’s hot and cold at the same time and it _hurts_. “Hey, shhh. Jensen.”

Jensen arms strike out in a flash, wrap tight around Misha’s back and pull him close. Misha’s hands settle softly over the base of Jensen’s spine and Jensen can hear the soft hitch in his breath when he buries his face in the crook of Misha’s neck. They don’t let go for a long, long time.

***

Jensen has completely lost track of time.

Minutes could have passed, or hours.

They hear the sound of a throat clearing from over Jensen’s shoulder and finally Jensen’s arms fall away, so they can both turn to face the cause of the noise. Now that he’s started, though, he can’t stop touching Misha, so he takes Misha’s hand and threads their fingers, squeezing. He’s cutting off their circulation, but he doesn’t care. If he lets Misha go, he’ll disappear again, and then he’ll never get him back. He can’t be this lucky twice.

Shit, he still half-believes he’s hallucinating, or having one of his occasional, alcohol-induced lucid dreams. Only things have been good for him, lately. _Really_ good. And it’s not anywhere near their anniversary, or Misha’s birthday, so Jensen hasn’t had occasion for any drunken wallowing.

“You’re a very lucky man, Mr. Ackles,” the doctor says. He’s young and attractive, with a Rolex watch and a stethoscope. He’s holding a folder in his hand and Jensen assumes he’s double checking some of Mish’s test results. That, or he’s deciding what to order for supper. “You’re suffering from severe exhaustion and mild dehydration, some vitamin and mineral deficiencies, but nothing that I wouldn’t expect, given what you’ve been through, and nothing we can’t take care of with rest and a healthy diet. We’d like to keep you overnight for observation, get some fluids back into you, make sure you get some rest, but I think you should be able to go home in the morning.”

“I moved,” Jensen suddenly blurts out. His first words to Misha in over three years, are _I moved_. But the doctor just said _home_ , and Misha loved their house in the country, loved the quiet, the fresh air, the slow pace. Now Jensen feels like shit for selling it, because Misha’s back and he doesn’t _have_ a home, not anymore. “We live in the city, now. It was easier, living closer to your parents, closer to schools and the bus and… everything. You know. So.”

“ _Jensen_ ” Misha cuts him off. He’s almost crying now, almost laughing as he cups the side of Jensen’s face in his palm. Jensen’s still holding his hand.

“Someone should be by in an hour or two, with something to eat and to check you over. And you can always hit the button for the nurse if you need anything,” the doctor says, smiling at them as he tucks Misha’s chart away and backs up toward the door. “Otherwise, I’ll see you in the morning, to fill out your discharge papers.”

“Thanks, doc,” Misha answers, still looking at Jensen.

After the door closes again and Misha’s hand drops from Jensen’s cheek, Jensen blows out a long, heavy puff of air. He squeezes his eyes shut and when he opens them again, Misha’s still there, smiling at him. He finally lets go of his hand and stands up, paces the short length of the room two times, three.

He stops and turns to Misha, stares at him for a beat.

Then, he yells.

“We thought you were dead!” he shouts, hands waving vaguely through the air around his head. “What the _hell_?! Do you have any idea what… Shit. Three fucking _years_ , Misha. We thought you were _dead_.”

Misha throws his head back and laughs, full-out, from deep in his belly. Jensen sighs and bites his lip. He thinks he might cry again.

“Jensen,” Misha says once he’s stopped laughing. “Trust me, if I could have gotten home to you sooner, I would have.”

“Fuck,” Jensen curses, the word coming out a low hiss as he practically dives across the room and almost lands in Misha’s lap. “Fuck, I didn’t mean… I’m sorry. I don’t really... God, Misha I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“Me neither,” Misha tells him, almost a whisper, like he doesn’t want to say it out loud. He takes Jensen’s hand again, rubs his thumb over the knuckles. He leans forward and Jensen can see the kiss coming a mile away. It’s short, soft, but Jensen can feel the need and the longing behind it. “I really didn’t think we’d ever make it back. I missed you guys. Every day, I wished and I prayed, but I didn’t actually think…”

“Oh, God,” Jensen says suddenly, eyes going wide. He sits up straighter and pulls his hand back from Misha, scrambling in his pocket for his phone. “Kyle. Your parents. I didn’t… I didn’t tell them anything. I need to… What are we going to say to him?”

“Breathe. We don’t need to say anything, right now,” Misha says. “There’s no reason for him to come here. You can talk to him tonight, let him know I’m okay. Give him a little while to get used to it and he can see me tomorrow.”

“Right,” Jensen nods, but he’s gripping his phone like a lifeline. He’s half numb, he can’t _think_ straight. “Yeah, of course. He’s with your parents right now, though, so I should… call them.”

“Okay,” Misha smiles.

“Okay,” Jensen nods. “Okay,” he says once more and then he takes his phone out into the hallway.

When he turns it on he sees that he’s got two missed calls. From Jared. Fuck. Jared.

He types out a quick text message: _Something came up. See you tomorrow? Sorry._

He cringes, because wow, that’s pretty terrible, but he hits send anyway. He doesn’t have the time or the brain functionality to worry more about that right now.

He wishes he’d thought to sneak a flask into the hospital with him. He feels uneasy, nervous almost, about calling Misha’s parents. Feels irrationally like he’s done something wrong and he’s confessing.

He tells himself to stop being such a pussy and presses speed dial 4.

“Misha’s alive,” he blurts out, as soon as Cynthia answers the phone. 

She takes it better than Jensen did. That’s not surprising, though. They only found three bodies and half the plane, and no matter how many times the police and the investigative teams told them nobody could have survived that crash, Cynthia had never quite given up hope.

She’s eager to see her son, though, which Jensen can’t really blame her for. So when he gets off the phone five minutes later, it’s with the promise that he’ll pick Kyle up in two hours, so that him and Jensen can talk, and Cynthia and Martin can come to the hospital to see Misha.

He stops by the cafeteria after, picks up two cups of coffee (one cream for Misha) and a lemon cranberry muffin. There’s probably next to no nutritional value in it, but Misha’s asleep by the time he gets back. It’s warm in the room, the sun beating down and the wall of windows reflecting the heat back inside, but Misha’s only wearing a paper-thin gown, so Jensen pulls the blanket up over him anyway. 

He needs to get home. He needs to call work and tell them he’ll be out for the rest of the week, at least. He needs to clean up the spare room for Misha and find some clothes for him to wear and he needs to figure out what the hell he’s going to say to Kyle. He needs to have a stiff drink and he needs to pinch himself a few times and he needs to think shit through. Shit like where Misha’s going to stay after tomorrow night, how Kyle’s going to react, how their lives are going to fit back together now.

He needs to figure out how he’s going to help Misha start his life all over again.

He needs to talk to Jared.

What he does, is climb onto the tiny hospital cot and put his head down on Misha’s chest. What he does is close his eyes and listen to Misha’s heart beating until the nurse comes in, an hour and a half later, with a blood pressure gauge and a ham sandwich.

***

“Tomorrow?” Kyle asks, eyebrows shooting up into his hairline. Jensen gives his hand a squeeze and then lets go, gives a short nod. “But… he’s gone. You said…”

“I know, baby,” Jensen says. He smiles a little and picks Kyle up, shifts him over so he’s tucked up next to Jensen on the couch, with Jensen’s arm around his shoulder. “We were wrong, we just didn’t know. He was lost, that’s all. Stuck on an island and couldn’t get home, but we didn’t know that. Someone found him, though and he’s okay. The doctors are checking him right now to make sure he’s healthy, and then yeah. Yeah, he’s coming home, tomorrow. Are you excited?”

Kyle turns slightly toward Jensen, tilts his head so his face is pressed against Jensen’s side. He pulls his knees up, buries his feet under Jensen’s thigh and puts his hand over Jensen’s stomach. He nods, but he doesn’t say anything. He hasn’t said much in the past five minutes. He hasn’t smiled since he heard the news.

Jensen sighs and hugs Kyle tighter.

“Hey,” he says, and presses a kiss to the top of Kyle’s head. “It’s okay, you know? Whatever you’re thinking right now, it’s okay. But I know that Pop is really looking forward to seeing you. He’s missed you _so much_ and he can’t wait to look at you, give you a great big hug and hear about everything you’ve been doing. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Kyle answers, but it comes out strained.

“Hey. Come on, what’s wrong? If you don’t want him to come home just yet, that’s okay. He can stay with Grandma and Grandpa until-”

“No!” Kyle cuts him off. “No, I want him to come home. Do you think he’s gonna like my paintings?” Jensen always lets Kyle paint whatever he wants, right on his walls. It’s sort of a disaster, half-drawings from when he was younger sticking out from under his more mature work, but he likes it. And Jensen thinks it’s amazing. He’s sure Misha will, too.

“I think he’ll love them.”

Kyle nods again, and then they’re quiet for a minute.

“Will he still want to watch _Cars_ with me every night?”

Just before Misha left, Kyle had been going through one of those phases, the kind where he only wants to watch one thing, the same thing, over and over and over. Poor Misha ended up seeing the movie about a hundred times. Kyle still thinks of it as _their_ movie.

“I think he’ll want to watch a lot of movies with you. You can show him all your new favourites.”

“And all my new toys,” Kyle adds, sitting up a little. He sounds a little more enthusiastic now, and he’s finally starting to smile. “And we can take him to my new favourite pizza place, and I can show him all my books and he can watch me play baseball! Pop likes baseball, right, Dad?”

Misha doesn’t actually like baseball, but Jensen’s sure as hell not going to say that now.

“You’re gonna be his favourite third baseman of all time.”

“I can turn double plays, now,” he says, proudly.

“I know you can, buddy. And Pop’s gonna be real excited to see you do it.”

Kyle snuggles back down into him and they’re quiet again, for a while.

Eventually, Jensen gets up to turn on the television. They recorded an episode of _Top Chef_ a couple of days ago and they haven’t watched it yet. They usually watch it with Jared, but. Jensen’s not sure when they’ll get the chance, and he wants to do something _normal_ with Kyle right now.

They share a bowl of ice cream – one scoop vanilla, one scoop strawberry – and afterwards Kyle washes the dishes while Jensen sews a new zipper onto Kyle’s broken backpack.

It’s nine o’clock when Jensen puts Kyle to bed, and after they’re finished their story (they’re reading _The Hobbit_ together, and tonight it was Jensen’s turn to read), Jensen tells him goodnight and kisses him on the forehead.

“Dad?” Kyle asks, when Jensen tucks the blanket up around Kyle’s shoulders. “If Pop was lost for so long, why didn’t we look for him?”

Jensen wonders that, too. Wonders why he hadn’t been a little more insistent when they first got the news. Wonders why he was so quick to dismiss Cynthia’s belief as a fucked up coping mechanism. He wonders if everything would have been different, if Jensen had had a little more faith.

Jensen swallows and takes a shaky breath.

“We didn’t know. The plane crash was so bad and people looked and looked for Pop and the others, but they couldn’t find him. We thought. We thought he was dead, so people stopped looking.”

“Is he mad that we didn’t find him?”

“No,” Jensen says, shaking his head. “No, of course he’s not. He’s only sorry he’s been away from us for so long.”

“But he’s back now.”

“Yeah, kid. Yeah, he’s back now.”

***

The first thing Jensen does after he shuts the door to Kyle’s bedroom, is fix himself a good, stiff drink. He thinks about calling Jared, but he honestly doesn’t know what he’d say right now. Besides, this is a conversation they should really have face to face.

He cracks a few ice cubes into a tumbler and then pours in three fingers of whisky. He tilts the cup to his lips and downs the whole thing, before he pours himself another. That one he takes with him into the basement and he puts it down on the brown metal unit of storage shelving along the wall, next to the furnace.

On the top shelf are two boxes, filled with some of Misha’s old things. There wasn’t much to keep that didn’t belong to both of them, anyway. Most of his clothes went to Goodwill, Jensen donated the majority of his extensive book collection to the library and most of his random keepsakes – things like Micky Mouse ears and a Cape Canaveral key chain and his old high school yearbooks – Jensen had thrown out.

All that’s left is a few of his old sketch books, his tool set (his _good_ tool set, the tools Jensen was never allowed to touch, because ‘You’ll probably dent the hammer and strip the screwdrivers and you know what? You’re horrible at handiwork anyway. Don’t touch _any_ of the tools’), the chess set he hand-carved himself and the suit he got married in.

He likes to look at the sketches, sometimes. Misha was a pretty decent artist, he liked to draw and paint, mold clay and build things. Jensen can’t draw a straight line with a ruler, and it’s possible he’s biased, but he always thought everything Misha created was beautiful, even when he teased it wasn’t. He was going to give the books to Kyle at some point, the tools, too. He was going to hope that Kyle would grow up to be as talented as his father, some day.

Now, Misha will be around to teach him.

Jensen’s lips pull up into a smile as he fingers the edges of the suit box. He was going to give that to Kyle, too, one day. Maybe he still will.

It’s not like Misha can wear the suit when he comes home from the hospital and putting the tools in the middle of the coffee table might give the wrong message. But he wants to do _something_ , have something around to make Misha feel a little more at home in a house he’s never seen before. The sketchbook feels a little heavy-handed, so he grabs the chessboard. It’s the one thing Jensen was always going to keep for himself.

There’s an empty shelf on the bookcase in the guest room. The chessboard looks good there.

After that, he makes a list.

_jeans_  
t-shirts  
underwear and socks  
sweatshirts  
sneakers  
pyjamas  
peach frozen yogurt  
kamut pasta  
mangos  
pork chops  
cream soda  
Arm and Hammer toothpaste  
Dove body wash  
Braun razors 

It’s all the stuff that Misha will need, things he likes that Jensen doesn’t bother to keep in the house anymore. Well, it’s _some_ of the stuff Misha’s going to want, but it’ll do for the immediate future. He tears the sheet of paper off the top of the pad and puts it on the table next to the door, under his keys.

The sheets on the guest bed are clean, but they’re a little stale. Jensen hasn’t changed them in almost a month, since Matt and Cindy crashed there after a few too many beers over an epic game of _Rock Band_. They’re fine, he knows they’re fine and at the very most, they could do with a spritz or two of that fabric spray shit Jared loves, the kind that smells like apples or peaches or something, but Jensen strips them and throws them in the wash anyway.

He uses double fabric softener, like Misha likes.

There’s really not much else he can do, not right now. This isn’t Misha’s home and there’s really no way to make it seem like it is. The old house had a deck that Misha and Jensen built together (okay, it was mostly Misha, but Jensen helped) and it had a mural that Misha painted onto the basement walls. It had all Misha’s clothes in the closet next to Jensen’s and it had the food he liked to eat in the fridge. 

It had a picture of Jensen and Misha on their wedding day in a frame on the mantle and a picture of Jensen, Misha and Kyle in front of the Magic Kingdom on their trip to Disney World on the wall at the top of the stairs.

Jensen put away their wedding photo a while ago, when he started dating Jared. It was about the same time he finally took off his wedding ring. The picture from Disney World is still up, though, three smiling faces with Mickey Mouse in the background sitting on the table in the living room.

There’s a picture on the desk in Jensen’s study, of Kyle and Jared together. It was taken at the park last summer, Kyle sitting on Jared’s lap under a tree and they’re sharing an ice cream cone.

Jensen puts it in the middle desk drawer, face down.

***

When Jensen gets to the hospital the next day, Cynthia and Martin are just saying their goodbyes. They’d gone home the previous night so that everybody could get some sleep, but they’d shown up first thing in the morning again, with cookies and pictures and stories about family weddings and Kyle’s short-lived hockey career.

The doctor comes in so Misha can sign his discharge papers. He hands Jensen a few prescription slips (vitamins and antibiotics – turns out, Misha has a lingering low-grade infection from a cut he got on his foot a few months back), tells him to make sure Misha eats well and gets enough rest and wishes them well.

“So you ready to go?” Jensen asks, once they’re alone.

“Almost,” Misha says, tugging at the hospital gown he’s still wearing and glancing pointedly at the bundle of clothes in Jensen’s hand.

“Oh, right,” he says, chuckling a little. “Sorry. Here.”

When he hands them over, Misha’s fingers brush up against his own, and it’s only just then that Jensen notices. Misha’s wearing his wedding band. Still, after everything he’s been through, Misha is wearing his wedding band.

Jensen’s own empty ring finger tingles uncomfortably and his thumb cuts across to rub it, unconsciously. He used to do that a lot, when he first took the ring off. Misha’s eyes flit down to track the motion and when he looks up at Jensen again, Jensen can’t read him.

“Thanks,” Misha finally says, and he goes into the bathroom to change.

***

“Home sweet home,” Jensen says, when he pulls into the driveway. ‘Home’ is a three bedroom urban turn-of-the-century one-and-a-half story with a pretty decently sized back yard. “It’s actually bigger than our old place, and like I said, it was just a lot easier living closer to stuff, when it was just me and Kyle. And it’s a quiet neighbourhood, and the back yard has a shit tonne of trees…”

“I like it,” Misha says, cutting off his rambling. He puts a hand over Jensen’s where it’s gripping the steering wheel and rubs over Jensen’s wrist bone with his thumb. “You gonna give me the grand tour?”

They start on the main floor. Jensen takes his time in the kitchen, points out where he keeps the cups and the plates and the vegetable peeler and the skillets, shows Misha where his frozen yogurt is and explains how they keep all the stuff that Kyle can get for himself on the lower shelves.

“I think I can figure it out,” Misha says, but he smiles indulgently when Jensen goes into detail about how he’s got the vegetable crisper organised.

The living room is fairly self-explanatory, so is the bathroom and the deck out back and the yard.

They spend almost an hour in Kyle’s room. Jensen doesn’t say much, just answers when Misha asks questions. Things like who the other kid is, in the picture Kyle has of him and Peter on his cork board, or what Kyle dressed up as for Halloween. Mostly Misha just looks around, takes it all in. Reads the titles off every book and movie and CD Kyle’s got on his shelves, takes in all his toys and the clothes he’s got lying around the floor.

Across the hall from Kyle’s room is the guest bedroom. They don’t go in, Jensen just leans in through the doorway and pats the frame, so Misha pokes his head in to look around.

“This uh. You can stay in here,” Jensen tells him, not meeting his eyes. He’s not sure what the right way to do this is, not sure there _is_ a right way to tell your long lost husband that you’ve moved on. Hell, for all Jensen knows, Misha’s moved on, too. Maybe Misha doesn’t even _want_ to be with Jensen. It’s been so long. 

But. Misha’s still wearing his ring.

“I washed the sheets yesterday. Twice the fabric softener, unscented. There’s extra pillows and blankets in the closet, and I bought some clothes for you, put them in the dresser.”

“It’s fine, Jensen. Thank you,” Misha says, and again he’s unreadable.

Jensen’s not used to this. This quiet, understated version of Misha is off-putting and he’s happy to have him back, he really, really is, but the whole situation is turning out to be awkward as fuck. He used to be able to know what Misha was thinking just by the way his eyes flickered and his lips twitched. Now, it’s like he’s a stranger.

There’s not much in the basement – only half of it’s finished, with a pool table, a dart board and a big-screen television. The other half is laundry and storage. The top floor is Jensen’s bedroom and the den, and he quickly shows Misha how the television hooks up to the cable and the PS3 and how to turn the stereo on before they go back downstairs and Jensen fixes them some lunch.

After tuna on whole grain toast and spinach salad with oranges, Misha takes a nap.

He sleeps until three o’clock.

***

The first thing Kyle does, after Jensen brings him home from school, is throw himself into Misha’s arms.

Misha looks surprised for a moment, eyes wide like he hadn’t expected that, but he recovers quickly and hugs Kyle back. Jensen is immediately relived. It’s not that he thought Kyle _wouldn’t_ be happy to see Misha, it’s just… well, last night, he didn’t seem too sure and lord knows Jensen doesn’t even know how to act. So it wouldn’t have surprised him at all if Kyle had wanted to keep his distance for a while.

Looks like Misha was thinking along those same lines. 

“Hey, baby,” Misha whispers into Kyle’s hair, as he crouches down low so he can wrap their son up tight in his arms. Kyle moves into the embrace, arms clutching even harder around Misha’s neck. Jensen almost laughs, because he’s pretty sure that’s what he looked like, yesterday. “I missed you _so much_.”

The hug goes on for almost a full minute, and then Kyle pulls away and looks up at Misha with a wide, toothy grin. “Dad says you were stuck on a desert island,” Kyle says, like it’s some of the coolest news he’s ever heard. “Erin said she saw a movie once where that happened, and they got to go swimming all day, and eat coconuts and catch fish and build houses out of palm trees. Did you catch any _big_ fish? Like, as big as me?”

Misha and Jensen both laugh at that, and Misha picks Kyle up off the floor and his legs hook around the back of Misha’s waist.

“Not quite that big,” Misha tells him. “But my friends and I did build a fishing net out of seaweed and we slept in a cave. And we built the biggest tree house you’ve ever seen.”

“Really? Cool!”

Misha actually looks surprised at himself, when he answers, “Yes, it sort of was.”

“Can you tell me all about it, so I can tell my friends?” Jensen’s a little bit amazed at how well Kyle’s taking this. Then again, he’s still at the age where he believes in Santa Claus and thinks maybe Transformers might be real, so it’s probably not such a stretch for his long-dead father to come strolling through the front door like he was really just on vacation.

“Sure can,” Misha says, and Jensen and Kyle spend the next two hours listening to Misha spin tales of adventure.

Jensen’s not sure how entirely true everything that Misha tells them is – in fact he’s pretty sure at least half of it is the plot to _Lost_ – but it’s still good to hear. He’s glad Kyle asked about it, because Jensen didn’t exactly know how and he’d wanted to. He’s been wondering how Misha and the others survived, what they ate and how they lived and what they did with their days, but he hadn’t known how to ask without sounding abrupt or insensitive.

Good thing kids don’t have that problem.

They hear all about how they would fish for days before catching anything, about how many different types of flowers and plants they saw and what it was like to sleep in a tree. They hear about Jake and Alona, a sweet young married couple from New York and Jim, a widower from Illinois who’s short on patience.

When Misha starts in on the family of orangutans they befriended and how the little one (Frank, they’d called him) taught them how to eat jackfruit, Jensen’s cell phone buzzes, letting him know he’s got a text message. From Jared.

_Want me to pick up pizza on the way home?_

Shit. 

“It’s almost supper time,” Jensen says. “Kyle, why don’t you go show Pop your walls, and maybe your new baseball uniform. I’ll call you when the food’s ready.”

“Yay!” Kyle cheers and jumps up from Misha’s lap, running for the hallway. “Come on, Pop! I can show you my room, and my video games upstairs!”

“I know you’ve already seen it, but he was really excited to show you all his paintings,” he says to Misha.

“I’d love another tour,” Misha says, smiling. And it really sounds like he would.

Jensen waits until he hears Kyle start to talk about his _very favourite one_ , the painting he’s been working on for about six months now, Optimus Prime on the front of his closet door, before he looks back down at his phone.

Shit, he should have called Jared before now, but his dead husband has only been alive for about twenty-four hours, so he’s still not thinking too clearly.

 _Can’t tonight_ Jensen texts back. _I’ll stop by your place later. I need to talk to you about something_.

His phone chirps again after only a few seconds.

_Uh oh. That sounds ominous._

Jensen smiles when he hears Misha and Kyle screaming and buzzing, making the sounds of explosions and gunfire that go along with machine combat. His phone chirps again.

_If you’re planning on breaking up with me, you better bring some Ben and Jerry’s :P_

Jensen knows what to do, here. He should say something sarcastic and reassuring, tell Jared if he’s going to spring for the high quality stuff then Jared better be putting out, so he knows everything is fine. But _Jensen_ doesn’t even know if everything’s fine, so he can’t really reassure Jared right now. He doesn’t know how Jared’s going to take this, or what it might do to them.

He doesn’t want anything to change, but he’s not that stupid. Misha’s _alive_. Everything has changed.

He puts his phone back into his pocket and heads into the kitchen.

***

“Do I have to eat _all_ my green beans?” Kyle asks, poking the beans around on his plate with his fork. The pasta and the carrots are gone, but about half the beans are still sitting, cooling and soggy on his plate.

“If you want dessert, you do,” Jensen tells him.

Normally that’s when Kyle huffs out a ‘fine’ and eats them, maybe scowls at Jensen a little, but this time he looks at Misha and asks again.

“Do I, Pop?”

Misha blinks, stops with his fork halfway to his open mouth and he looks at Jensen. Jensen just shrugs.

“You do,” Misha answers. “Dad already told you you do.”

“Jared wouldn’t make me,” Kyle grumbles, even though yes, Jared _would_ make him. He knows it, too. “Hey, where is Jared, Dad? It’s Tuesday, right? We’re supposed to have pizza.”

Jensen’s heart beats double and he stops breathing, curses silently and chances a glance at Misha. He’s looking straight at Jensen, one eyebrow slightly raised in question and Jensen looks away, clearing his throat.

“Uh.” he starts. “Jared’s at home. Something came up. Hurry up with those beans, and I’ll get us some cookies.”

Jensen stands up and collects his own plate and Misha’s and he really, really hopes Misha doesn’t ask who Jared is, as he rinses them in the sink. It’s not a conversation he wants to have over dinner, with Kyle right there.

But, Misha doesn’t even have to ask, because Kyle, it turns out, is feeling chatty.

“Is Jared still gonna be your boyfriend, now that Pop’s back?”

Jensen half-chokes, half-coughs and he shuts the water off and spins around, practically slamming a bag of Oreos into Kyle’s chest.

“Here,” he says. “Forget about your beans. You guys want to play _Monopoly_?”

***

Jensen lets Misha put Kyle to bed that night.

The whole thing takes more than two hours. They start at eight o’clock, with Misha helping Kyle decide which pyjamas to wear, and by the time Kyle has finished reading seven different stories to Misha, it’s pushing half past ten. It’s a little late, but Jensen doesn’t mind. He’s called Kyle’s school to let them know he won’t be in for the rest of the week, so a few late nights while he catches up with his father won’t hurt.

When Misha comes back out to the living room to join Jensen on the couch, Jensen’s got two mugs of hot chocolate waiting for them. It was always Misha’s favourite.

“Thanks,” Misha says, grinning into his mug as he takes a small sip. “Damn, I almost forgot how good this stuff is. I feel like I’ve forgotten how good _everything_ is. It’s all kind of overwhelming, you know?”

Jensen nods, but no, not really. How could he possibly know?

“Our parents are supposed to come by tomorrow,” Jensen tells him. “All four of them. Do you want me to ask them not to? I mean, do you need a few days, or something?”

“No,” Misha answers, shaking his head. “No, I’d like to see them.” There’s silence for a few minutes, not entirely uncomfortable and finally Misha breaks it. “How long have you been living here?”

“Two years. We stayed in the old place for over a year, but it was just way too hard, having to drive all that way to work and then get home in time to take care of things there, get Kyle everywhere he needed to go. So I sold the house, and found this place.”

“I like this place,” Misha tells him, again.

“It’s a good neighbourhood. Stores and libraries and community centres close by, not much crime, a lot of families. Lots of trees and parks, too. There’s a great park, just a few blocks down, where Kyle plays baseball.”

Misha nods and takes another sip of his chocolate.

“And work? Are you still feeding the masses?”

“Yeah,” Jensen says. “Got a promotion though, last year. Make a little more money, but it’s pretty much the same job. They let me work from home sometimes, go in late and leave early, which is great. Are you… Do you think you’ll want to start teaching again?”

“I honestly haven’t thought about it,” Misha says. His eyes are doing that sparkling thing they do when he thinks something is amusing and Jensen lets out a tiny snort of laughter. 

“Yeah, sorry. I just. This is really fuckin’ weird, Mish.”

“For me, too,” Misha says. “Don’t try so hard. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me and keep me constantly entertained. I’m a big boy, Jensen. Let’s try to act normal.”

“Dude, you’ve never acted _normal_ a day in your life,” Jensen scoffs.

Misha’s face splits into a wide grin at that.

“See? Better already.”

Jensen smiles back.

There’s a lull in the conversation in which Jensen works up his nerve, and when he thinks he’s as ready as he’s likely to get without a few shots of tequila, he clears his throat and puts his cup down.

“So, I’ve been seeing someone.”

The lines around Misha’s mouth get tight, not quite a smile, but almost.

“So I’ve heard.”

“Right. His name is Jared, he’s a nurse. He loves Kyle.”

“So it’s serious?” Uh-oh. Misha’s back to that look that Jensen can’t quite read.

“It… We’ve been dating for a year and a half.” 

***

_The first time Jensen sees Jared, the sun is shining._

_It’s the middle of the afternoon in late April and he’s tossing a baseball around in the park with Kyle. The kid is breaking in his brand new glove, graduated from his oversized Spiderman mitt to his grown-up one, stiff and bright black and shiny with oil. He’s dropping more than he’s catching, the leather not yet flexible enough to be a smooth extension of Kyle’s hand, but he’s not getting frustrated, he just purses his lips, pokes his tongue out from between them, like Misha used to, and tries harder._

_Jensen tosses the ball underhand, gets enough height on it so that it practically falls straight into Kyle’s palm and his face breaks out in a wide grin when he manages to squeeze hard enough to fold the glove in half, and keep the ball in place._

_“You’re a natural,” Jensen tells him, then breaks out laughing when Kyle’s return throw goes so wide it hits a passing jogger square in the hip. A really tall, really damn good-looking jogger._

_The man lets out a soft ‘oomph’ and his hand goes to his side, where the ball hit. He stops and looks around, confused for a moment until he sees Jensen’s hand covering his smile and Kyle running up to him, open-mouthed and wide-eyed._

_“I’m so sorry,” Jensen tells the guy, as he bends to pick up the ball that’s fallen still at his feet. He tosses it back and Jensen catches it, easily. “I guess we could use a little more practice, hey buddy?” He wraps his arm around Kyle’s shoulders and gives him a little squeeze, before he turns back to the stranger. “You okay, man?”_

_“No worries,” the guy says, smiling as he waves off Jensen’s concern. Then he takes a step closer and he hunches over a little, to look at Kyle. “One time? I accidentally threw a basketball right into my big sister’s birthday cake!”_

_“I bet she was mad,” Kyle says, laughing a little. “One time I dropped by friend Peter’s cupcake on the ground, and he was mad.”_

_“Oh, she was mad, alright. She made me save up my allowance for two months to buy her a new cake, even though it wasn’t her birthday anymore.”_

_“Are you mad that I hit you?”_

_“It was an accident, right?” the guy asks, and Kyle nods. “Then I’m not mad. My name’s Jared.”_

_“My name’s Kyle,” Kyle tells him, stepping out from the semi-cover of Jensen’s side completely. “And this is my dad.”_

_“Well it was nice to meet you, Kyle,” Jared says. He stands up straight again and grins, nodding to Jensen. “Dad.”_

_“I also go by Jensen,” he says, giving Jared a warm smile and holding out his hand._

_Jared takes it, gives it a quick, firm pump and smiles back. Jensen’s sure he’s not imagining the way Jared’s fingers linger as he lets go, or the way he unconsciously licks his lips when his eyes flit down to Jensen’s mouth. It’s over in a second though, and then he’s back to smiling a big, goofy smile. Jensen likes it. It suits him._

_“Jensen. Well, I better get back at it. Need to keep my heart rate up. But you guys have a good one. I uh… I come here every Saturday, so maybe I’ll run into you again sometime.”_

_It’s almost, but not quite, a question._

_“Yeah, have a good one,” Jensen answers, and with one last wave at Kyle, Jared takes off jogging down the trail._

_Jensen lets himself sneak a peek at Jared’s ass as he goes. Not bad. He doesn’t look for long though, before Kyle’s saying “Ready, Dad?” and backing up so that Jensen can toss the ball to him once again._

_Two weeks later they do, in fact, run into Jared. This time he stops for a while to play some catch with them and Kyle shares his peanut butter sandwich, and Jensen shares his cookies. Two weeks after that, Jared shows up with his own glove and Jensen brings enough food for three._

_Before they know it, and with no formal agreement, the three of them have a standing appointment every other Saturday. Sometimes Jensen packs a picnic and sometimes they get hot dogs from the cart near the playground. Usually they toss the baseball around, but sometimes it’s the football and every once in a while they just swing on the swings._

_It’s nice to have a new friend, someone who doesn’t know anything about them, can’t pity them or judge them or tell them they need to move on. There’s no pressure, none of the self-consciousness Jensen feels when he’s with his other friends. Hell, all this time together and Jared’s never once asked about Kyle’s other parent, though he must know Jensen isn’t in a relationship._

_Their conversations aren’t overly personal, but that’s the sort of thing that would tend to come up._

_It’s casual, it’s fun, it’s_ comfortable _. Jared’s a blast, Kyle loves him and once they fall into a groove, it’s like they’ve always been there. There’s some light flirting that goes on between Jensen and Jared sometimes, but Jensen gets the impression that Jared’s like that with absolutely everyone. Hell, he nearly proposed to the little, grey-haired lady who sold them some of the best ice cream any of them had ever had, a few weeks ago._

_It’s exactly what Jensen and Kyle need._

_It’s six months before Jensen gets up the nerve to break out of his comfort zone and actually ask Jared out on a date._

_The words are barely out of his mouth before Jared says yes._

***

“It started out pretty casual, but. The past six months or so, it’s been… Yeah. Yeah, it’s serious.”

“That… complicates things, a little.”

“Misha, I didn’t… I thought you were dead. It was a year and half before I even looked at anyone else. But now… You gotta understand, Mish. I’ve had to keep living my life.”

“It’s okay, I’m not angry. Well, no, I sort of am, but… I’m angry at the situation, not you. You haven’t done anything wrong, Jensen.” He pauses and smiles, sad and small. “Stop beating yourself up. It’s been years and I’d have to have been crazy not to think you’d have moved on. It really is okay. Or, it will be, anyway. I just need some time. You don’t have to feel guilty.”

Fucking asshole. The fucked up thing is, he actually means that.

Jensen reaches out and takes the handle of his mug between his fingers, twirls it around a few times. He does, though. He really does need to feel guilty. Because Jensen couldn’t keep it in his pants, and now look.

“Yeah. Look, I was supposed to go over there tonight, talk to him, tell him… that you’re back. But if you don’t want…”

“No, you should go. I should probably try to get some sleep, anyway.”

“You’ll be okay? I could call your mom over, if you want, but I won’t be long.”

“I’m thirty-seven.”

Jensen rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know. Shit. My cell number is on the fridge. Call if you need anything, okay? _Anything_. I won’t be long.”

“I won’t need anything. I’ll be asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.”

Misha’s probably lying. He does look tired, he still has a hell of a lot of sleep to catch up on, but he’s also wearing his ‘thinking’ face, which means he’ll spend most of the night staring at the ceiling, working things over in his mind.

There will probably be a lot of that going around, tonight.

***

By the time he gets to Jared’s place it’s past midnight.

He lets himself in one-handed, balancing a small brown paper bag from the market against his hip. He tries to stay quiet, just in case Jared’s sleeping already and he heads straight for the kitchen. The Cherry Garcia he picked up on the way over is starting to melt, so he takes the box of donuts out of the bag and puts them on the counter, before turning to the freezer with the ice cream.

“It’s late,” Jensen hears from the kitchen doorway and he startles a little, with his hand on the freezer door. “I wasn’t sure if… oh. Uh, wow. I know what ‘we need to talk’ usually means, but I didn’t really think…”

Jensen frowns and turns, sees the look on Jared’s face and follows the line of his eyes to where he’s looking. At the giant tub of ice cream in Jensen’s hand. And Jensen remembers Jared’s text from earlier.

_If you’re planning on breaking up with me, you better bring some Ben and Jerry’s :P_

Jensen’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head.

“No,” he says, rushed and low, as he puts the ice cream in the freezer and shuts the door. He smiles then, slightly awkwardly and nudges the box of donuts a little in Jared’s direction on the counter.

Jared loves candy, cakes, ice cream. Anything sweet, really. Sugar makes him happy. And it’s not like Jensen is trying to butter him up, or ease him into the news or anything. 

Except it’s exactly like that.

“No, God, I’m not breaking up with you.” Jared’s face relaxes fractionally at that, but his shoulders are still too high and his fingers are playing nervously with the loose cotton of his pant legs. “You want a donut? I know it’s late, but they’re fresh.”

“No, I don’t want a donut. I want to know what’s going on. You tell me something came up two nights in a row and now ‘we need to talk’ and you don’t show up until after midnight and you’re clearly trying to bribe me with sweets.” He pauses then and frowns, apprehension turning to suspicion as he narrows his eyes. “What did you do? Did you drop my laptop in the sink again? Did you burn the house down? Did you lose all your money off-track betting? Oh, God. Did you cheat on me?!”

He’s nearly yelling now, his words building in speed and intensity until they’re high-pitched and squeaky. Jensen feels his own tension rising as a result, which is exactly the opposite of what he needs right now.

“No!” he shouts back. “Jesus, Jared, I didn’t _do_ anything!” He stops and closes his eyes, calms himself down with a steady breath. Deep, slow, in and out. Just like he tells Kyle when he gets worked up about something. He doesn’t want to do this with them yelling at each other. “Sorry. I didn’t do anything, but I do have some news.”

“What kind of news?”

“I think we should sit down. Okay? It’s kind of… big.”

Jared nods and they each take a seat at the table, across from each other with Jensen angled slightly away. 

“Good big or bad big?” Jared asks, and Jensen smiles when he lifts the lid of the donut box to peek inside. Three raised chocolate – Jared’s favourite – two plain and one toasted coconut.

“Have one,” Jensen says, flipping the lip open the rest of the way. Jared breaks off a piece of the hardened chocolate glaze and places it between his lips, but he doesn’t actually take the donut. “It’s… It’s good. Really good, actually. But it’s… I don’t even know.”

“Jensen, what is it?”

“Misha,” he says. He takes a deep breath but he doesn’t let it out again, not right away.

“What about Misha?” Jared asks, rushed and tight. Yeah, he’s definitely getting irritated now. Jensen’s not usually this hedgy.

“Misha… is alive.”

Jared’s mouth snaps shut and he sits up a little straighter. He blinks a few times and opens his mouth again.

“That’s… I mean… but how?”

Jensen’s smile is pained when he answers. He’s already had this conversation twice, once with Cynthia and once with Kyle, and it’s not getting any easier.

“There was a small island near where the plane went down. I mean, people searched there, but they didn’t find anything. Maybe they hadn’t gotten there yet, or… I don’t know. But there were four of them, living there all this time. Few days ago, a boat passed by, close enough to see their fire. Funny, it shouldn’t have been so close to the shore, but their GPS was acting hinky, so…”

“Wow,” Jared says, after it’s clear Jensen doesn’t have anything else to add. “I mean, that’s…”

Jensen quirks the corner of his mouth up and cocks his head. “Big?” he offers.

“Yeah,” Jared snorts. “Big. So how… How is he? Where is he… Is he at your house?”

Jensen nods and breathes deep.

“He’s good. He’s a little overwhelmed, but he’s good. I met him at the hospital last night. He’s fine, mostly, so he came home this morning. He’s staying with me, at least for now. We haven’t really talked about the details yet, like how long, or where he’s going after. For now, we’re just getting used to things, you know? Kyle’s really excited.”

“I can imagine,” Jared says, forcing a smile. It’s small and a little sad. Jensen’s fingers twitch with the desire to reach across the table and take Jared’s hand, but he doesn’t do it. “I mean, it’s crazy, it’s a shock, but it’s great news, right? He’s got his dad back. You’ve got your… It’s great news. I’m happy for Misha. For you and Kyle.”

“Jared…”

“I am. I mean it. Sorry, I’m pretty sure I should be a little more enthusiastic, but I’m just kind of… overwhelmed, I guess.”

“Hey,” Jensen says, as soothing as he can and this time he does give into the urge to touch. He shifts his chair around so he can take both Jared’s hands in his and his fingers settle over Jared’s wrist. He can feel Jared’s pulse beating under the tips of his index fingers, fast and irregular. “Hey, you don’t have to pretend to be feeling anything you’re not, okay?”

Jared nods. “I don’t even really know _what_ I’m feeling, to be honest,” he admits. Jensen can relate. “Does that make me a horrible person?”

“Of course not,” Jensen tells him. “Fuck, Jared, _I_ don’t even really know what I’m feeling. Good, obviously. I’m… I can’t believe he’s really alive, you know? And I’m happy we’ve got him back, happy Kyle is gonna have both his fathers again, but I’m also… I don’t know. Feeling kind of confused? Blindsided? This changes a lot. I wish it didn’t, but… I don’t know what this is going to mean for us, right now.”

“Right,” Jared says, clears his throat a little and pulls his hands back. He picks up a donut now, but he doesn’t eat it, just puts it down on the table in front of him. “Are we… I mean, do you think we should take a break or something? Do you want some time to… to see what happens? Oh, God, you _are_ breaking up with me.”

“I’m not. I’m really, _really_ not,” Jensen assures him. “I know this is a seriously fucked up situation. And it’s gonna be hard on you, I know that. Misha’s staying with me right now, and he knows about you, we talked about it a little, but… But maybe you should think about hanging on to this place? At least for a little while.”

“Yeah. I can stay out of your way for a while.”

Jared sounds flat, defeated and it’s like a knife to Jensen’s heart.

“I don’t want you out of my way, Jared. I just… Maybe it’s best if you don’t come over to the house for a while, at least while Misha’s getting settled. Like I said, he knows about you, but I don’t want to rub his face in anything.”

“No, you’re right. I know.” 

“I just… Can you be patient? Everything will be back to normal in no time, I promise.”

“I understand, Jensen. Misha must be going through a lot right now, and it’s okay that he has to be a priority.”

He wants to be able to say that Jared’s his priority, but he’s right. Right now, Misha has to be. But everything about this feels wrong. They’re sitting a few feet away with the kitchen table between them and they shouldn’t be. They should be touching, Jared should be curled up against his side and they should be watching the news and kissing and falling asleep together.

Jared puts his uneaten donut back in the box and closes the lid.

“I should…” Jensen says, after a minute or so, “get home, I guess.” 

“Yeah, okay.”

“I told Misha I wouldn’t be long. And he’s home alone with Kyle, so…”

“Okay,” Jared says again, this time standing up.

Jensen stands stiffly, shuffles his feet as he moves toward Jared. He makes an awkward move forward like he’s going to kiss Jared, but it still feels way too weird. He changes his mind at the last second and Jared jerks when Jensen pulls back, and heads for the front door.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Jensen says, with his hand on the doorknob. Everything in him is telling him to reach out and touch, kiss Jared on the mouth, pull him into a hug and never let him go, but he doesn’t really know where they stand right now, and he doesn’t want to make anything worse.

“Yeah,” Jared says. It’s quiet, sad like his eyes, but he’s trying to smile.

***

Jensen’s already down the hall and smacking the down button for the elevator before he changes his mind. He curses, jabs the button again, even harder and turns back around. He can’t just leave like this, with this feeling of… of _ick_ in his gut. He knows he can’t really make anything _right_ , at least not tonight, but he’s feeling crazy and unsettled and out of control and he just really needs Jared right now.

And Jared could definitely use some reassurance, Jensen would have to be an idiot not to see that. God, what was he thinking, just breaking that news and then walking out like that? He’s such an asshole.

When he gets back inside Jared’s apartment it’s dark, quiet with only a thin sliver of light peeking through the crack to Jared’s slightly ajar bedroom door. He follows the beam along the parquet tiled floor and slowly swings the door open.

The lamp next to Jared’s bed is on, the heavy beige cotton of the shade casting the room in a soft light and Jared is there, sitting on his bed with his head in his hands. He hasn’t seen Jensen yet, hasn’t heard him, But Jensen can see his shoulders hitching slightly, can hear the way he breathes in too deeply, the way the air shakes his lungs on the way out.

Shit. _Shit_. God, Jensen _sucks_.

“Jared?” he says quietly, tentatively. He feels like he’s intruding, like he’s seeing something he shouldn’t. Which is fucked up, because he never feels like that with Jared.

“Jensen!” he gasps, and snaps his head up. He rubs the wetness from his red-rimmed eyes and sniffles a little. “I didn’t… What are you doing here?”

“They’ll be okay at home for a little while longer. I don’t have to leave just yet.”

“No. No, don’t stay here because you feel guilty, or you want to make me feel better, or whatever. That’s ridiculous. I’m a big boy and I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Jensen counters, looking pointedly at Jared’s splotchy face. “And neither am I, not really. But I meant what I said, Jared. I’m _not_ breaking up with you. And you’re not breaking up with me, either, so… Stop thinking that.”

Jared sucks in a breath and rubs his open hands over his thighs. He does that when he’s nervous, or anxious. It’s cute, Jensen thinks.

“Jensen… I want to believe that, but…”

“But nothing,” Jensen says. He takes a step into the bedroom, stops a few feet in front of Jared. 

“But he’s your… your husband, Jensen. Your _husband_ is alive, he’s _here_. You’ve got your family back.” He looks down then, and he says even quieter, “You don’t need me anymore.”

Jensen snaps then, practically tackles Jared to the bed and pins him, presses a harsh, biting kiss to his lips. It goes on and on, mouths gnashing together and tongues sweeping out with exceptional force. Jensen’s hands are in Jared’s hair, grasping, pulling and Jared is clenching the back of Jensen’s shirt in tight fists while Jensen works one of his legs in between Jared’s.

Sex had been the furthest thing from his mind for the past two days, and he sure hadn’t planned on this when he’d come over here tonight, but now it’s like he needs it. He’s twitchy and tense and the only way he’ll find peace is inside Jared.

When Jensen finally pulls back they’re both panting heavily and Jensen can feel the hard outline of Jared’s cock along his thigh, where he’s pressing down. He kisses Jared once more, quick this time, with bruised, puffy lips and when he looks down at Jared, his eyes are dark and wide.

“I _always_ need you,” Jensen growls. He’s still holding onto a fistful of Jared’s hair, so he gives it a short tug, for emphasis. “You got that? Always.”

Jared’s face crumples then and he sounds like it hurts when he says, “Jensen…”

“Misha’s back,” Jensen cuts him off. “And I’m _glad_ he’s back. Jared… I’ve missed him. _So much_. You know that. And I feel so… _lucky_ that he’s okay, that he’s back in my life and that Kyle can grow up knowing him, instead of just hearing stories. But Jared… We are not over. Please, okay? I need you to believe that, too.”

Jared opens his mouth and pulls in a breath, ready to speak but Jensen says, “ _Please_ ” one more time and Jared just nods, and the fight goes out of him.

Jensen kisses him again, slower this time. Slower, when his lips slip down to Jared’s neck, slower when he helps Jared off with his shirt, then his pants, and he trails sucking, open-mouthed kisses down over Jared’s chest. 

“More,” Jared says, when Jensen settles between Jared’s legs and slowly licks up the naked skin of his inner thigh. More is A-okay by Jensen and he pulls back enough to quickly strip out of his own clothes and grab the lube from Jared’s dresser drawer. Jared just watches him with hooded eyes, blinking slowly.

Even when Jensen settles over top of him again and works two slick fingers inside him, Jared just lets him, kisses back when Jensen kisses him and spreads his legs, moaning softly. That’s okay. Hell, Jensen doesn’t mind doing most or all of the work, on occasion. Besides, Jared is beautiful when he just lies back and lets himself enjoy.

He settles his free hand flat on Jared’s lower abdomen, bends down and slowly takes the tip of his erection into his mouth. Jared hisses and bucks and Jensen bites back a smile as he closes his lips and takes him in deeper. He works his fingers just as slow as his mouth, in and out, shallow and deep, hard and harder. But always slow.

Jared is squirming and whinging above him when Jensen finally pulls back enough that Jared’s cock pops free of his mouth. His hands are scrabbling blindly at Jensen’s shoulders and his breath is coming shallow and uneven. Good.

Jensen kisses his lips, soft and easy and sweet and he cradles Jared’s face in one hand. The other pulls free from between Jared’s legs and he hooks his arm around Jared’s thigh, hikes it up higher so it’s pinned to Jared’s side when Jensen braces himself on the bed.

“I love you,” he whispers, when he finally pushes in. Jared shakes and sighs, takes Jensen’s face between his palms and pulls him down. He presses Jensen’s face against his neck and Jensen pants heavily against the soft skin there, licks and bites gently over the moist puffs of his own breath as he rocks into Jared, splits him open and fills them both.

“I love you,” he says again, after they’re lying side by side, sticky and spent. Jensen is holding Jared’s hand, picking absently at a loose thread in Jared’s comforter with a fingernail.

“Love you, too,” Jared says. He turns his head and smiles at Jensen and it’s real this time. Jared looks happy. He knows Jared means it, knows Jared loves him, but he doesn’t have to fight quite so much for each breath of air, after seeing that honest smile.

***

When Jensen gets home, just past three in the morning, Misha is asleep on the beanbag chair in Kyle’s room. He grabs the spare blanket from on top of Kyle’s toy box, drapes it over Misha and tucks it up around his chin. Misha always used to wrap himself up tight to sleep, but maybe that’s changed. He hasn’t had that option in a while.

He smiles as he looks down at him, mouth half-open and the back of his throat is making that little almost snore that used to keep Jensen up at night. He bends down and presses a kiss to his forehead, does the same to Kyle.

He doesn’t have as much trouble sleeping that night as he thought he would.

***

Misha’s parents arrive the next day while they’re still cooking breakfast. Jensen whips up another batch of pancake batter and Misha and Kyle squeeze the juice out of a few more oranges.

The morning is relatively quiet, a few peaceful hours spent relaxing in the living room, while Jensen helps Kyle bake a cake for desert that night. Jensen’s parents show up just after lunch and they pass the afternoon in the back yard, with hot chocolate, lemonade and a marathon game of charades.

They don’t stay late, just long enough to eat the lasagna Jensen made for supper and finish off Kyle’s entire double layer chocolate cake, but they’re gone by the time the sun sets.

Misha’s been quiet most of the day. Not exactly _quiet_ quiet, he’s just been acting a little subdued, not entirely like the Misha Jensen remembers. Which is completely understandable, given what he’s been through. And the fact that people keep treating him as if he actually _has_ been dead for three years.

Every time he turns around, someone is asking him if he’s okay, if he needs anything, if he wants to lie down. God, if Misha has to drink one more cup of tea or eat one more bowl of soup, Jensen thinks he might hit someone. He probably just wants people to shut the hell up and leave him alone already. Nobody seems to be able to treat him like a normal human being.

Well, nobody except Kyle. Which is probably at least part of why he and Kyle have been practically attached at the hip for the past two days. It’s been surreal, that’s for sure, but it’s early days yet. Jensen’s sure they’ll all settle in soon enough.

After Kyle is in bed for the night, Jensen gets them each a beer while Misha grabs a couple of sweaters from the closet. It’s chilly out, especially at night and they sit side by side on the porch swing and they say nothing at all.

It feels awkward at first; the silence is heavy and oppressive and Jensen literally itches with the need to fill it. He doesn’t, though. He just sips his beer, pushes the swing back and forth with his feet on the deck and scratches the shit out of his left forearm.

Eventually they settle, though, slouch down on the swing with their arms hanging loose and their knees spread and lazy so they knock together slightly on each swing forward. It’s comfortable, then and Jensen is reminded of days long past, when they used to sit like this at their house in the country. Sometimes for hours, they’d just sit together. Sometimes they’d read, sometimes they’d nap but mostly they’d just be, maybe with Jensen’s hand on the back of Misha’s neck or Misha’s leg hooked over one of Jensen’s.

“So I was thinking about having some friends over, sometime soon,” Jensen says sometime later, after their empty beer bottles are sitting at their feet and Misha’s head is flopped over so it almost rests on Jensen’s shoulder.

Misha’s voice is lazy and slow when he answers, like he’s on the verge of sleep. Understandable, considering the day he’s had and the standing doctor’s orders to basically sleep as much as possible. “That sounds like fun.”

“Yeah. I just wasn’t sure if you’d be up for that. You’ve only been back a couple of days and you’re not quite at full strength yet. I didn’t… I don’t want to push too hard. But I was supposed to have supper with Matt on Saturday and I… If I cancel, I don’t want to lie about why.”

“I’ll be fine,” Misha tells him, still slow, still lazy. “And I’d rather get the reintroductions over with sooner, rather than later.”

Well, that’s not entirely encouraging, but Jensen finds that he agrees with the sentiment.

“They’ll be crazy excited to see you,” Jensen says, shifting his arm to wrap it around Misha and pull him closer, ease him down so he’s cradled at Jensen’s side. “Mark and Richard and Felicia, especially.”

Mark and Richard had been Misha’s friends since before Jensen had met him. Jensen sort of expected their friendship to fizzle out without Misha there to hold them together, but he was pleased to learn that wasn’t the case.

And he still feels a little awkward that Misha had hit it off so well with a girl he’d dated, but he’s always trusted Felicia not to share that embarrassing story about the time he fell asleep with his face between her legs.

Even after seven years, even though they’re not together anymore, he still wants Misha to think he’s a king between the sheets. So, he has ego issues. That’s not news.

“Set it up,” Misha says, after a minute. “I want to see everyone. Hell, I’ve had a lot of time on my hands. I’ve been thinking about reunions in horrible, graphic detail for years.”

Jensen tenses briefly, he pulls Misha tighter and then he forces himself to relax. He’s not going to waste his energy wondering how Misha imagined _their_ reunion. He doesn’t need any more pressure on that fissure through his heart right now.

“I don’t want to sound like a broken record,” Jensen tells him. “But I’m _really_ glad you’re back.”

***

Jensen spends the day on Friday figuring out how to bring his not-so-dead husband back to life in the eyes of society.

It turns out there’s not that much to do. Misha was only ever _presumed_ dead, never officially _pronounced_ , so they don’t have to prove to anyone that he’s actually still alive, they don’t have to any death certificate to get voided.

The DMV wants him to come in for a test before they issue an up to date licence. That has to wait until two Thursdays from now, and that was only because Jensen was lucky and they had a cancellation. He hopes Misha remembers how to drive.

The health insurance he got from his teaching job ran out a long time ago. Technically he quit before he ‘died’, but since they’re still actually married, it’s only a matter of a phone call and a copy of the marriage certificate to get him put back onto Jensen’s.

He’d gotten Misha’s name taken off his bank accounts and credit cards about six months after the plane went down, so the bank wants them to come in and sign some papers to give Misha access again. Jensen books the appointment for Monday, but in the back of his mind he wonders if it’s really a good idea.

Sure, they’re married, but for how much longer?

Misha would probably be better off opening up his own accounts, but that will have to wait until he’s got his own money, which will have to wait until he's got his own job. 

His social insurance number is still good. So is his library account. Jensen makes the necessary phone calls to get new cards sent out and by mid-afternoon, he’s done. Everything looks like it’s in order, or at least on its way there.

Misha Ackles has officially rejoined the land of the living.

***

It’s been a week, exactly.

It’s Tuesday night. 

It only hits Jensen that it’s Tuesday night, with all the implications thereof, when he’s halfway through his second slice of goat cheese and spinach pizza. It only hits him when he looks down at his plate and realises that his slice of double pepperoni is still sitting there, that he hasn’t spoken to Jared in a week.

Kyle’s laughing and Misha is stuffing about fourteen celery sticks into his mouth at one time and they’re playing tug-of-war with the package of Twizzlers that’s for _after_ Kyle’s eaten all his vegetables and it’s perfect. It’s everything Jensen’s been missing for the past three years, everything that used to keep him up at night with nightmare-dreams about how much he’s missed it, and now he has it. It’s right here, in front of him.

Fuck, he misses Jared.

He laughs when Kyle wins the bag of licorice, raises his eyebrow and says, “Dude, you slobbered all over them, now you eat them,” when Kyle tickles Misha’s side and he spits his celery out all over the table. He laughs even harder when Misha scowls at him, does indeed eat all fourteen pieces of celery and as a result is too full for more than one slice of pizza and has absolutely no room left for dessert.

***

He waits while Kyle gets put to bed, then he waits for Misha to join him on the couch in the living room. He waits while they silently drink the hot chocolate that Jensen made for them and then Misha slips down and turns, so he’s lying flat with his head next to Jensen’s thighs and his feet hanging over the edge. He waits while Misha smiles and holds his hand and tells him it’s okay if Jensen has somewhere to be.

He swallows down the overwhelming guilt that goes along with the fact that he _does_ have somewhere to be, but he shakes his head and he waits, as he watches Misha fall asleep on the couch, breathing in and out under Jensen’s light hand.

He leaves a note, because he’s a pussy.

***

Jared lets Jensen in with enough enthusiasm, smiles like he’s surprised (which Jensen can’t really blame him for – he hadn’t even _called_ first and it’s pushing midnight) and kisses him briefly on the corner of his mouth. He’s not _cold_ when he leads Jensen into the living room, that’s not what this is, but he _is_ a little distant. 

He doesn’t say much when he turns on the radio, doesn’t ask how Jensen’s been and doesn’t offer any information about himself. He tells Jensen he’s in the middle of an article, doesn’t just shove his face into _Men’s Health_ and ignore him without warning, but Jensen can’t really shake the feeling that he _is_ being ignored.

There’s just enough space between them when they settle into the couch for Jensen to wonder, to double back and play it again, to pick apart each and every move he’s made since he walked in the door.

And… no. He’s been perfectly pleasant, his hair looks alright, he doesn’t have garlic breath. It’s gotta be the not calling for a week thing.

“Are you mad at me?” Jensen asks, taking Jared’s hand and interrupting his reading. It’s a stupid thing to ask, of course it is, but he can’t just sit here all night going crazy.

“No,” Jared lies. Then, “Yes.”

“Well, which is it?”

“I am,” Jared decides, putting the magazine down. “You show up close to midnight after not talking to me for a whole week. I know a booty call when I’m on the receiving end of one, Jensen. For you to reduce us to that, it’s sort of insulting.”

“That’s not what this is,” Jensen insists, even as he slips his hand down and over the inside of Jared’s thigh. He’d have to be crazy not to want to fuck Jared, right now or any other time, but that’s really not what this is. “That’s not why I’m here.”

“Why _are_ you here?” Jared asks him.

That’s easy.

He’s here because he loves Jared, because he misses him, because his life has been completely turned upside down, like a dream come true, but nothing makes even a little bit of sense without Jared by his side. Of course, that’s not what he says. He doesn’t say anything at all, actually.

Jared sighs and takes Jensen’s hand, pulls him down the hall and into the bedroom.

“I missed you, too,” he whispers into Jensen’s mouth, while his hands work the hem of Jensen’s t-shirt up over his shoulders.

And Jensen’s not an idiot. He knows this isn’t quite right, knows there’s still some tension, knows Jared really _is_ still mad at him, but Jared’s hands are on the back of his neck, Jared’s tongue is in his mouth and Jared’s crotch is pressed up hard against his own, so Jensen doesn’t really care about _right_ just now.

All he cares about is he missed Jared and Jared missed him and it’s been a fucking _week_. 

Nothing else matters when they’re both stripped naked and holding each other down on the bed, nothing else even registers when Jensen slots between Jared’s thighs and they rub together, Jared’s fingernails digging sharp, red-tinged, crescent-shaped gouges into Jensen’s shoulder blades. Nothing else means a damn thing at all when Jared’s fingers close tight around Jensen’s wrists and don’t let up, don’t let him even think about going anywhere.

Jared bucks and Jensen jerks and then it’s a race to the finish, a mad dash of thrusts and pushes and gnawing teeth until Jared is screaming and begging to come, and Jensen is desperate to let him.

It’s not a booty call, Jensen tells himself, when his breathing slows and he rolls to the side, leg folded over top of Jared’s. It’s not.

Except. It sort of feels like it is.

***

On Thursday night, Jensen leaves Misha and Kyle at home with a skillet full of butter chicken and absolutely no mistaking the fact that he’s going to see Jared, and won’t be home until well into the night.

Kyle smiles and kisses him goodbye and Misha does the same, though with a little less enthusiasm.

“Tell Jared I miss him,” Kyle says.

“We’ll be fine,” is Misha’s only input.

“Bed by nine,” is what Jensen parts with. “I love you.”

That last is directed to both of them and they both know it, smiling and watching him go.

Jensen picks up a couple of burgers on his way over. Double mustard, no lettuce for Jared. They eat them in front of the television and then Jensen wraps Jared up in his arms, takes him to bed and holds him close, until Jared’s almost asleep.

“Kyle says he misses you,” Jensen says, quiet, the words almost only existing in the soundless breath around Jared’s ear.

“I miss him, too.”

“We’ll hang out, soon.”

Jared probably thinks it’s a lie. Hell, maybe Jensen does, too. He honestly doesn’t know what the hell’s going on here, but he makes a point then and there to at least give Kyle and Jared each other. Neither of them chose this, neither of them is responsible for this. All Jensen knows is that they love each other and he’s not going to take that away from them.

Jared doesn’t quite fall asleep.

Jensen doesn’t quite sneak out.

***

Misha takes to his welcome back party like… Well, he takes to it, which is sort of better than Jensen had really expected. He’s got his octopus arms all over their friends, his ‘aww, shucks’ smile is working overtime and he nods and stands up straight when people ask if he’s tried the bean dip.

He’s a little quieter than Jensen remembers him being, but that’s what Misha does, when he’s sizing up any situation. He’s an observer, a thinker and Jensen knows that as weird as this is for him and Kyle and their friends, it must be even weirder for Misha. _God_ it must be weird for Misha.

But he fell in love with Misha for a reason.

Well, he fell in love with Misha for a whole shitload of reasons. One of them, was how well he adjusts to any given situation, how he can deflect discomfort; misdirection and a well-placed smile. He makes people feel at ease, whether they want to or not.

And tonight, Misha does that and a whole lot more.

After a few ‘holy shit, man, it’s good to see you!’s and ‘Fuck, you’re skinny, here eat this entire pizza’s and ‘what was it like? Were you bored? Were you scared? Were you lonely?’s Misha has pretty much wrangled the crowd. A smile, a blush, a downturned chin and Misha’s got them all eating out of his hand. Nobody says a word, not unless Misha invites it.

Things have settled down quickly, faster than Jensen even thought they would, and after about half an hour, everyone is acting like Misha hasn’t been away for years. Their friends are laughing and joking with him, feeding him shots of tequila and stealing his garlic bread.

They’re kicking his ass at charades and challenging him to Mario Kart championships and God. Really, sometimes all you need is a few people who aren’t life-shatteringly invested in you to put things into perspective, to help you take a step back and really appreciate _now_.

It’s a good night.

And if Jensen thinks it’s weird that nobody asks about Jared, he doesn’t mention it. 

***

After the first awkward, hectic couple of weeks, Misha slots back into their lives pretty damn seamlessly. It’s not quite like he’s never been gone – hell, it’s not even _remotely_ like that – but they’re learning each other again, Jensen and Kyle and Misha.

The first thing Jensen does when he rolls out of bed in the mornings and stumbles into the kitchen is turn on the coffee maker. It’s the first thing he’s done in the morning, every morning for the majority of his adult life. Except one morning, without even realising it, he reaches for the kettle first, and puts it on the stove to boil.

Because Misha only drinks coffee _after_ he’s had two cups of green tea with lemon. How he can even function enough to shower and get dressed without a giant hit of caffeine is beyond Jensen’s understanding, but whatever. Putting on that pot of water was habit for four years. It seems like a lifetime ago, but it comes back without any trouble at all.

It’s four, maybe five times that Jensen has started with the sports section of the morning paper, because it’s right there on top, that he realises the front section of the newspaper isn’t actually for sports at all. It used to be.

Well, Misha used to take it out of the middle and fold it over the front page, so Jensen could check the scores before he read the current events, half out-loud while they all ate breakfast together. Now, every day starts with the sports section.

Tea, and the sports section.

And Cheerios.

Because when Kyle was younger that was about the only thing he could ‘cook’ all by himself, so every third day, when it was his turn to make breakfast, that’s what they’d have.

And Jensen hasn’t bothered trading off, really. Hasn’t asked Misha to make breakfast and he hasn’t asked Kyle to help out on any day that wasn’t a weekend in years. Things have been too hectic in the mornings, with Kyle going to school and only Jensen there to get him ready, until recently.

Yet, every third day, Kyle comes into the kitchen, rubbing his sleepy little eyes and reaching for the Cheerios on the bottom shelf. He puts them on the table and disappears into his room again and when he comes back out, Misha’s pulled down bowls and spoons and milk and OJ from the fridge.

It takes Jensen a little while to notice that change, too.

It’s almost a month before Jensen stops to wonder why there’s always supper ready when he’s finished work and it’s not until he’s halfway through cooking up a pot of mac and cheese that he realises he’s switched back from skim milk to 2%.

Because you’re still getting all the sugar in skim milk and without the fat it’s harder on your body. Whatever. Jensen likes the taste of skim better. Or, he did. Though now he figures it’s just a matter of what you’re used to.

He wonders if that same principle applies to other things, as well.

***

 

“I’m sorry.”

The words startle Jensen, breaking through the quiet of the kitchen. Late night coffee has become a bad habit of theirs over the past couple of weeks. Neither of them usually says much, but the unwanted caffeine is worth it for the time together. 

“For what?” Jensen asks. His shoulders tense and he carefully puts his mug down on the table. Any conversation Misha wants to have that starts out with ‘I’m sorry’, is probably not anything Jensen wants to hear.

“For leaving,” Misha says, simply. Well. Looks like they’re actually going to go there. Okay, then. “You didn’t want me to go, but I… put myself first and I got on that plane and now look.”

Honestly, Jensen can’t say a day has gone by that he hasn’t thought that very same thing, blamed Misha for leaving him, for _dying_. It’s completely ridiculous and Jensen feels guilty as shit about it, but the bottom line is, if Misha had just _stayed_ , everything would have been fine. Or, maybe it wouldn’t have been. The only thing Jensen knows for sure is that Misha left, _he_ made that choice, even though he knew Jensen didn’t want him to go. And he didn’t come back.

Still…

“It’s not your fault,” Jensen tells him. “And you didn’t put yourself first. I… Fuck, Misha, I can’t tell you how many hours I spent, both before _and_ after you went, wondering what the hell you were thinking. But. But you weren’t selfish. It would have been selfish of me to demand that you not go.”

“You tried, as I recall,” Misha says, with a tight smile.

Jensen returns it, just barely. 

“You weren’t thinking of yourself, when you made the choice to go,” Jensen says. “The problem was…” He cuts off and takes a breath, because he’s never actually said this to Misha before. Never let himself say it out loud, not to anyone, hardly even let himself think it. “The problem? Is that you weren’t thinking of me, either. Or of Kyle. Shit, Misha… You’re this wild, easy going, free spirit type and I’ve always loved that about you. It’s what made me fall for you in the first place.”

Honestly? Misha’s flighty. Jensen hates to say it; in fact, he never has. He means well, he wants nothing but good to come of his actions, but he has a hard time thinking in realistic terms. If something sounds like a good idea, Misha is all over it. Even if it has devastating repercussions for himself and the people that are closest to him.

Jensen proposed after only two months, offered to adopt Misha’s baby before the baby was even born. And sure, Jensen knew he was being crazy, but Misha accepted without a second thought. Gave a veritable stranger full custody over his offspring.

At the time, Jensen had loved him for it. Now? Now, he still loves him for it.

“I had a family.” Misha’s response is almost a whisper, he’s looking down at his fingers curled around the handle of his mug. “That should have come first.”

“It should have,” Jensen agrees. Fuck, ever since the day Jensen signed the adoption papers and they took Kyle home from the hospital, it was Jensen that was slotted into the primary caregiver role, while Misha played backup. It was never a problem before, it was just how things were. Oh, Misha loved Kyle every bit as much as Jensen ever did, but it was always Jensen that stepped up to take care of things, handle details, make sure the permissions slips for trips to the zoo were signed and everybody was eating their broccoli.

“I’m sorry,” Misha says again. Fuck, it breaks Jensen’s heart.

“Don’t. Okay? Don’t. Nothing about this is your fault. We all just… We got royally fucked, is all. Bad shit happened and we got caught in the middle.”

“I should have stayed here.”

Misha is shaking, his fingertips vibrating against the porcelain handle.

“Kyle and I… We don’t love you any less because you went.” It’s the best thing Jensen has to offer. And it’s the truth. “And what happened to you… That’s not anyone’s fault.”

“No,” Misha agrees, flicking his eyes up to Jensen’s before he looks back down at his coffee. “No, but if I didn’t get on that plane, I’d still have my family.”

“You do still have us, Mish.”

“I do. But… But I also don’t.”

Jensen just nods at that, head tilted up and then down sharply, because Misha’s right. There’s so much they’ve all missed out on.

“You’re back,” Jensen says. “That’s all that matters. And we will always be there for you.”

“This Jared guy? I hope he realises how lucky he is,” Misha says. 

Jensen doesn’t have to hope. He knows it’s true.

***

Misha has been going a little crazy just sitting at home watching Jensen work once or twice a week and reading the newspaper on the back deck the rest of the time, so he’s started doing some volunteer work at the local library. He was a teacher, _is_ a teacher, but June is when all the teaching jobs are winding down for the season, so it’s not like he could start working right away, even if he wanted to. He doesn’t come out and say he’s going to look for work in September, but the fact that he mentions it at all, even in passing, is something that makes Jensen smile. 

It’s like something Misha would have done four summers ago.

Like everything is going back to normal.

Misha works most mornings, falls into spending the afternoons walking or running errands, picks up the responsibility of doing the grocery shopping and the laundry. He also picks Kyle up from school most days, which frees up a lot of Jensen’s time. He starts to stay a little longer when he goes out for a drink or a slice with one of his friends, and he works from the office a little more.

He’s also got a comfortable sort of routine going with Jared. Because he absolutely hasn’t forgotten about Jared. His boyfriend. The man he’s going to spend the rest of his life being in love with, the only one he’ll ever want to feel pressed up naked next to his own naked body.

The love of his life.

Jared.

Every Tuesday night, after pizza at home with Misha and Kyle, there’s pizza and sex with Jared. Pretty horrible pizza, because the pizza place near Jared is nowhere near as good as the one near Jensen, but the sex more than makes up for it. The sex more than makes up for everything, _anything_ , because sex with Jared has always been – will always be – his happy place.

Every Friday he goes to see Jared straight from work, chokes down the half-cooked spaghetti or still-frozen-in-the-middle lasagna and they talk.

Jared asks about Jensen’s work and Jensen asks if Jared’s joining the community centre basketball team this year. Jensen asks about Mr. Langevine, from the psychiatric ward. Jensen’s always had a soft spot for the guy, even if he tends not to remember Jensen’s name from one visit to the next.

Jensen feels bad that he hasn’t been around in a while, to play scrabble.

Jared lets him off the hook, tells Jensen the old guy is doing fine, but Jensen makes a mental note to go see him, soon.

Jared asks if Kyle has learned his four times table yet.

Jensen kisses him, lets Jared grip his shoulders tight and force his legs apart.

He leaves after Jared falls asleep and he’s home before it’s time to put the kettle on.

***

Before Jensen even knows it, June is coming to a close. The last day of school hangs heavy around them, the last day Kyle won’t be home all the time, won’t be spending all day, every day with Misha. 

The last day Jensen won’t feel like Misha is stealing Kyle right out from under him. 

He’s been dreading this, though he hasn’t even wanted to think about it. He needs to, but he hasn’t. They don’t know, _he_ doesn’t know, what’s going to happen when Misha moves out. He doesn’t know who Kyle is going to want to live with. 

Ever since Misha came back he’s been spending just about every free second with their son, playing video games and reading books and teaching him how to make fresh pasta. And if Misha has the entire summer with him, to take him to the aquarium and feed him ice cream and toss the baseball around, Jensen is going to lose.

Not that it’s a competition, but… it kind of is.

Jensen is Kyle’s Dad. He makes the rules, he _enforces_ the rules and while they _do_ have fun together – stay up late and eat junk food and go to hockey games and theme parks – it’s Kyle’s best interests that come first. 

Bed time exists for a reason and cookies come after asparagus. And sometimes Jensen has to work, or he’s tired or lazy and he just doesn’t _feel_ like playing superheroes.

Hell, Kyle says he likes _Jared_ better than Jensen sometimes, so Jensen’s pretty sure Kyle will be all but begging to run off with Misha the second the opportunity to make that choice comes up.

There’s a part of Jensen that wants to do whatever he can to stop that from happening, but he’s an adult and he knows better. It hurts, but there’s nothing he can do except let things sort themselves out.

Kyle and Misha have been apart way too long and Jensen’s not going to get in their way. They deserve the summer together. Any major decisions can wait a couple of months. 

But _today_ was the last day of school, the summer doesn’t start until tomorrow. So for now Jensen wants to pretend all that uncertainty doesn’t exist. He wants to wrap his family up in a warm blanket and enjoy this night together. Not the last night they’ll share, not even close, just… Just in case.

“Pizza,” he says, when he climbs the stairs. Misha picked up Kyle an hour ago and they’re in the den playing video games when Jensen gets home. “I know it’s not Tuesday, but pizza anyway.”

“Extra cheese and pineapple?” Kyle asks, not bothering to even pause his game, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“Gross,” Jensen says. “But sure, yeah.”

“Pop likes pineapple,” Kyle says, then cheers when Mario skids out in front of Yoshi to cross the finish line first. “It’s an island thing, right?”

Kyle and Misha both turn to Jensen then, Kyle with an expectantly raised eyebrow and Misha with an indulgent smile.

“I do like pineapple. But it has nothing to do with islands.”

“Great. One pineapple, one pepperoni?” Jensen asks. 

“Is Jared coming?”

Jensen flinches just slightly, purposefully doesn’t look at Misha.

“Not tonight. I was thinking tonight we could have a ‘last day of school’ party, just the three of us. We can watch a couple movies, eat some candy, stay up late? Summer starts tomorrow!”

“Awesome!” Kyle says, jumps up from his seat on the couch and starts to dance around the den. Well, more jumps around narrowly missing knocking over a lamp and his glass of juice and he finally does slam himself into the arm of the couch. “How late? Like… midnight? How many movies? Can we watch Narnia? Can I have a _two scooper_ of ice cream?”

“Two movies, two scoops, and popcorn,” Jensen tells him, smiling wide. God, he loves to see Kyle so happy. “And all the pineapple pizza you want.”

“Yes!” Kyle says, fist pumping in the air. “And cookies?”

“Don’t push your luck,” Jensen says, trying for stern, but Misha’s eyes go wide and pleading, drawn down at the outside and he cocks his head. Damn, Jensen can’t say no to that face any easier than he can to Kyle. “Yes, fine. Cookies. But you guys have to make them. I need to shower.”

There are simultaneous cheers from both Misha and Kyle and Jensen smiles all the way to the bathroom.

***

He knows Jared’s working late tonight, so he calls him at work. He’s got the phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder while he strips out of the pants he’d worn to wade through rows and rows of imported corn cobs in one of their warehouses, marking off which piles would get used for soup or tortillas or put into cans. He smells like a farm.

When Jared answers, he smiles, pushes back on his heels and kicks out of his boxers.

“Hey, you,” Jensen drawls. His voice is warm and slow, wrapping him and Jared up in a bubble, even though they’re only connected through wires and plastic.

“Hey yourself,” Jared answers. Jensen can hear his smile, can picture him ducking into a corner, or stepping outside for a little privacy. Jared always gets teased, when Jensen calls him at work. Nobody _coo_ s and _aww_ s and makes kissy faces quite like some of those little old ladies. “I’m kind of surprised to be hearing from you.”

Jensen’s eyebrows scrunch together and he cocks his head to the side. Jensen’s been calling his boyfriend at the nursing home on a pretty regular basis since they got serious. He likes to hear Jared’s voice in the middle of the day, or at the end of it. 

“You are?” he asks. Although now that Jared mentions it, it _has_ been a while since he called him up while the sun was still out, just to say ‘hey’.

“Yeah, well. You’ve been busy. ‘S okay, I get it.”

Jensen doesn’t want to have that conversation, not again, not right now. Jared’s being amazing and Jensen feels bad enough as it is.

“Well, I was thinking,” Jensen starts, shakes off the sudden melancholy. He’s happy, he’s having a good day and Jared’s voice in his ear makes it even better.

“Sounds dangerous,” Jared teases.

“Hilarious. Anyway, are you busy tomorrow?”

“Uh… thought I might go grab a few drinks with Chad after work, but I can make sure to come home early if you wanted to drop by.”

“Actually, if you wouldn’t mind showing up _late_ to meet Chad, Kyle and I were thinking we could take you out for supper.”

“What’s the occasion?” Jared asks, sounding genuinely surprised. And isn’t that just way too fucked up? Not too long ago, going out for supper together would have just meant that they were hungry and too lazy to cook.

“Today is Kyle’s last day of school. And he’s been asking about you, so I figured we should all celebrate.”

“Oh,” Jared says. “Yeah, that sounds good. But does Misha… I mean, will it be the four of us?”

“Nah,” Jensen says, but he knows it doesn’t come out nearly as casual as he wants it too. His voice is kind of tight and wavering. “We’re gonna stay in tonight and watch some movies, so. Tomorrow it’ll be just the three of us. It’ll be good.”

“Yeah,” Jared answers, and Jensen can hear him smiling again. “Hey, Jensen, I…”

“Yeah?” Jensen prompts, after Jared trails off.

“Nothing,” Jared says. “I love you.”

“Love you too, babe. See you tomorrow, okay?”

“Tomorrow,” Jared says. “Bye.”

Jensen tosses his phone down on his bed and steps into the shower, lets the steady pounding of hot water wash away any lingering weirdness. He doesn’t want to think about that tonight.

***

After the pizza, Jensen and Misha and Kyle pile in front of the television, three sleeping bags lined up in a row, Kyle in the middle. He falls asleep a little before midnight, flat on his front halfway through _The Avengers_.

Kyle kicks and twitches and mumbles something in his sleep, flails an arm, whimpers. Jensen smiles down at him, puts his palm down flat on Kyle’s back, just to feel him warm and solid under his touch. He does that, sometimes. Okay, a lot. But the kid’s growing up, he’s seven years old and Jensen won’t be able to get away with that kind of shit much longer. Pretty soon, Kyle’s going to be old enough that hugs and kisses from your dad are gross and embarrassing.

“I can’t believe how big he is,” Misha says, as if he’s reading Jensen’s thoughts. His hand comes down right next to Jensen’s and his voice is strained, wavering. “I missed so much.”

“Not anymore,” Jensen says. He knows Misha’s not just talking about Kyle. He knows Misha has missed him and he’s missed Misha, almost more than he can stand. There were moments, in between being bombarded with support and love from his parents and his friends and Misha’s family, in between Saturday afternoons with Jared, that Jensen honestly thought he might not make it. “You don’t have to miss anything, anymore.”

“I missed so much,” Misha says again. This time it’s only a whisper.

“He missed you, too,” Jensen tells him. It doesn’t come out like he wants, doesn’t come out solid and reassuring. It’s thready and uncertain, filled with more want than he has any right to, at the moment. Their time has long passed. “We both did.”

“There were six, originally,” Misha says. His voice is steady, suddenly. Monotone. Jensen wants to wrap his arms around him, kiss the side of his neck and tell him it’s going to be okay, because when Misha sounds like he does right now, nothing is okay. He doesn’t, of course. “Six of us, that survived the crash. There were more in the water, but… Six made it to land. Two died after a few months. Infection, probably. We tried to help them, but we didn’t have any medicine. We… we didn’t know how to…”

“I’m glad it wasn’t you,” Jensen says. He knows he’s supposed to tell Misha how it wasn’t his fault, that it could have happened to anyone, that all those people on the plane that never came home, that’s not because Misha didn’t try. All he can think though, is that he really is glad that it wasn’t Misha. “I’m glad you came home.”

It’s a long time before Misha answers.

It’s Thor fighting the Hulk and a hardcore crash scene later, before Misha says, “Me too.”

Jensen sucks in a breath, slides his hand slowly up Misha’s arm so it rests on his shoulder. He presses gently, eases Misha down as he goes himself, until the three of them are resting in a row, heads side by side by side on the their pillows with Jensen and Misha’s arms tangled together, wrapping Kyle up in the middle.

Nobody bothers to turn the television off.

***

The next day Jensen and Kyle pick Jared up from work at half past six. Kyle’s in the back in his car seat, bouncing the whole way and Jensen feels like the worst kind of scum for keeping them apart for so long.

He hadn’t planned on it. Really, he hadn’t, it’s just… things were busy at first, tense. And then things were _comfortable_ and Jensen’s not a coward, most of the time, but their situation is a whole lot more delicate than Jensen has really wanted to test.

But this feels good, though. Supper with his two best boys.

Jared’s waiting outside when they pull up, but Jensen parks the car and him and Kyle get out anyway, to greet him properly. Jensen smiles, leers a little at the sight of Jared in his best jeans and a fitted mauve button-up, hair combed back neat and styled with gel. 

He holds out the small bouquet of tulips he picked up on the way and Jared takes them with a smile, takes his lower lip between his teeth as he glances down at them. Jensen barely has time to press a quick kiss to Jared’s lips before Kyle is on him, arms wrapped around Jared’s waist and slamming him back into the wall.

“Jared!” he calls, and he doesn’t let go for a good thirty seconds. Jared catches his eye over Kyle’s head and Jensen wipes the corner of Jared’s mouth with his thumb, even though there’s nothing there to wipe. Jared smiles wider.

“Hey, buddy,” Jared says, when Kyle finally pulls back. “I missed you!”

“I made you this!” Kyle says, shoving a slip of crinkled up paper into Jared’s face.

Jared laughs and takes the sheet with his free hand, draws it back far enough that he can actually see what it is. What it is, is a picture Kyle drew.

It’s Jared and Jensen and Kyle and Misha – out front of their house with the sun shining overhead, yellow and orange and red spikes coming out of a bright yellow circle to show what a nice day it is. The grass is tall and uneven and overly green and it’s Kyle’s family.

The four of them.

Jared doesn’t even flinch, just smiles brighter at Kyle’s gift and picks him up, wraps his arms around Kyle’s back as Kyle’s legs grip his waist and he spins them, laughing until they get dizzy.

“I should put these away,” Jared says, when he drops Kyle to the ground. “These need water,” he says, holding out the flowers, “and this deserves to be put in my locker. I want to see this every day”. He waggles Kyle’s picture a little and Kyle grins so wide Jensen thinks his face might crack.

God, why the hell has he waited so long for this? It’s not just Kyle that smiles like that whenever Jared’s around.

Jared’s gone and back again in just two minutes, and he hops into the car where Jensen and Kyle are waiting to whisk him off to his favourite Mexican place, in the North end of town. Jensen doesn’t take him there very often. For starters, it’s a good twenty minutes away from where they live and also? He doesn’t want to have to spend any time at all with Jared after he’s downed six burritos.

He loves Jared, he does, but the guy is _gassy_.

Tonight, he doesn’t have to worry about that, though. Tonight he can wine and dine Jared, let him order whatever he wants without having to worry about _after_ because after supper, Jared will be Chad’s problem. And while Jensen doesn’t dislike Chad, better him than Jensen to deal with the fallout, is all he’s saying.

Tonight, Jensen can be smooth and cool and remind Jared why it is that he’s saddled himself with a single father who turned out to be not-so-single. Tonight, he can remind them all why they work so well together, why just because Misha’s back, doesn’t mean the three of them aren’t still three. 

Tonight, Jensen turns out to be the third wheel.

He doesn’t say much, doesn’t get asked much, just sits back and watches while Jared and Kyle laugh and steal food off each other’s plates. Listens while Jared tells Kyle about the new resident and how she loves to play Monopoly and she’d probably love it if Kyle could come by to play with her.

He listens to Kyle tell Jared all about how he’s batting fourth this year on his little league team and how Peter is having his birthday party at the beach next month and how his Pop loves pineapple and coconuts and can catch fish with seaweed. Jared listens intently and nods and asks if Misha learned to water-ski and Kyle laughs and tells him “they didn’t have a boat, Jared!” and then launches into a story about how he came first in his class in reading that year.

“I read forty-six books all year,” he says. “That’s more than anyone. Only Kelly came close, and she only read forty-one. So I got a prize!”

He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a shiny blue Chapters gift card, bright white $20 printed onto the front.

Sometimes Jensen forgets, that just because Jared isn’t actually Kyle’s father, doesn’t mean he doesn’t care just as much.

“That’s awesome, Kyle!” he says. “Congratulations. I think for that? Double dessert.”

Kyle’s eyes grow wide and he looks to Jensen for approval and even though he had enough crap food last night to last him a friggin’ _month_ , Jensen just can’t say no.

“You guys hate me, don’t you?” is all he says, sighing and defeated.

Jared and Kyle high five and then ask the waitress for two orders of churros and ice cream.

Jensen watches them eat it while he finishes his coffee.

By the time they drop Jared off at the bar where he’s meeting Chad, Kyle is vibrating so hard Jensen won’t be surprised if there’s a hole in the roof of the car when they get home.

Jared is going dancing with some friends, and Kyle loves dancing. It takes the promise of a _Just Dance_ marathon next week from Jared, for Kyle to let him go as easily as he does.

“Have fun!” Kyle calls from the backseat, when the car stops at the curb to let Jared out.

“Not too much fun,” Jensen counters. He doesn’t really mean it, his scowl is just for show. Only, he _does_ sort of mean it. He hasn’t spent very much time with Jared lately. He knows Jared loves him, but it might not take much for Jared to realise that there are so many other men out there, so many men with less baggage, who can give Jared everything he wants.

“Hey,” Jared says, leaning in close across the front seat and cupping Jensen’s jaw in his palm. “You’re my fun. Right?”

Jensen just rolls his eyes and shakes Jared off.

“Yeah, yeah. Go. Do your thing. See you soon, okay?”

“Friday,” Jared says.

“Yeah. Friday.”

***

When Jensen arrives at Jared’s apartment on Friday, Jared is a little drawn in.

Which Jensen can’t exactly blame him for. Jensen’s feeling sort of down himself, confused and twitchy and… And his hand still remembers how good it felt to twine with Misha’s and rest down on Kyle’s back.

What’s fucked up, though, is it feels just as good when Jared accidentally covers his fist over the doorknob as Jensen tries to close it. 

Hell, Jensen can’t even decide if it feels just as good or _better_ , doesn’t even care. Just knows that being with Jared is right, it’s good, it’s where he should be. He knows it’s been way too long and he knows that he doesn’t want Jared to wonder anymore.

He’s been a prick, he gets that. He hasn’t meant to, but Jared doesn’t deserve neglect, doesn’t deserve this limbo. Jared deserves to be loved, _worshipped_ , fully and wholeheartedly. He deserves to be someone’s _everything_ , deserves nothing less than the entirely of someone’s love.

Jensen can give him that. Jensen _should_ give him that and he’s sorry that he hasn’t been.

He wants to show Jared, slow and sweet. He wants to take him easy and lazy, hold him down and kiss him all over and touch him all rough and slow, like he knows Jared loves. He wants to.

He wants to give that to Jared and he wants to feel Jared back again. He wants Jared’s skin against his own, Jared’s lips over his collarbone and the vulnerable flesh of his neck. He wants Jared’s hands over his back, urging him on and he wants to feel Jared buckle and beg underneath him.

He wants that. So does Jared.

So that’s what they do.

There’s no ‘hello’, there’s no ‘how was your day?’ 

There’s Jared leading the way to the bedroom, there’s Jensen following.

There’s Jared shucking out of his clothes and there’s Jensen watching, each strip of Jared’s clothing coming off another strip off Jensen’s resolve.

Jensen loves Jared.

He loves him more than anyone who isn’t Kyle.

But the sex, he has to admit, isn’t all that good, this time.

Jensen lets it happen, lets Jared lay him down and cover his body with his own. Lets Jared rut and slide against him and he breathes his way through it. Jared gets there but Jensen doesn’t quite make it.

“I’m sorry,” Jared says, as soon as it’s done.

Jensen just shrugs and turns over, pulls Jared to his side. Jensen’s cock is getting soft again, but he hasn’t come yet. He doesn’t even care. That’s not something that matters to him, not right now.

“It’s cool,” Jensen mumbles, chin resting on Jared’s shoulder.

“No, I mean… I’m sorry, because you’re gonna have to make a choice, Jensen. I don’t mean to pressure you, but… You need to decide.”

“Decide what?” Jensen asks, a sudden cold shooting through him. There is no decide. There’s not. But Jared asking like this… Yeah. It’s not like he doesn’t know what Jared means, but Jared has to know that there _is_ no decide.

“I know you love us both. Me and… and Misha,” Jared says. Jensen wants to jump in and correct him, put Jared’s mind at rest, but he can’t. Jared’s right. He _does_ love them both. “I know this is hard for you. But Jensen… think about what this is like for me. Think about how I feel every time you leave here and go back home to him. It’s like my worst nightmare. God… Dating a guy with a dead husband? And then that dead husband _comes back_? It’s not easy. So please, figure out what it is that you want, because I can’t do this for much longer. I can’t have you sneaking out of his bed and into mine. You’re breaking my heart.”

“Did you… wait. Wait, do you think I’m _fucking_ Misha?”

“Aren’t you?”

“What the fuck, Jared?!” Jensen asks, pushing back with a hand flat on Jared’s chest. There’s way too much rage and self-righteousness going on, but he seriously can’t believe Jared would think that. “Of course I’m not. Jesus fucking Christ, you’re my… my _boyfriend_. Or, I thought you were.”

“Jensen, he’s your _husband_. I mean, he _is_ still your husband, right? It’s been two months and you’ve never even mentioned him moving out yet, let alone getting a divorce. Three months ago I was packing up all my shit to start a life with you and Kyle and now I get you sneaking in for late night fucks and you’re gone by morning. What am I supposed to think?”

Jared’s tense next to him, fight or flight being fought out where Jensen can’t hear, but in the end it’s both. It’s always both, with them. They argue, but they don’t very often say what really needs to be said. 

“Jared…” He’s absolutely right, is the thing. It’s not like Jensen doesn’t know this, he’s just been doing a really good job of ignoring it in the hopes that it’ll all sort itself out. And honestly, he’s sort of trying not to rock the boat. He knows that Misha’s going to move out at some point, probably some point soon. And when he goes, there’s a very real possibility he’s going to want to take Kyle with him.

Jensen wants to put that off for as long as he possibly can.

“I feel like… God, Jensen, I feel like we’re having an affair. You’re married. You live with your husband and your son and I’m just the guy you sneak off to see when everybody else is asleep.”

“That’s not fair,” Jensen protests, spits the words out but they’re cracked and weak.

“No,” Jared agrees. “It’s really not. I haven’t even met him, Jensen. I’ve got to wonder why that is. Why are you trying to keep us separate?”

“I’m not…” Jensen starts, only he _is_. “You asked me to make a choice.”

“I did. I meant it. Even if you’re not… you know… _with_ him, you’ve gotta know that what you _are_ doing, that’s leading him on. It’s unfair to both of us. So yeah. Make a choice.”

Only, Jensen doesn’t have to. That choice was made over a year ago.

“I’m not… I’m not leading him on, Jared. He knows I’m with you. But he needs my help right now, needs my support, needs his _family_. And that’s Kyle, that’s me. It’s always going to be. But this whole… situation. It’s temporary, I swear.”

“Does Misha know that?”

“Of course he…” Jensen starts, but then he snaps his mouth shut, clams up and grits his teeth. Because he _thinks_ that Misha knows that, but they’ve never actually had that conversation. They’ve never actually sat down and talked about ‘how long?’ and ‘what next?’

“Exactly,” Jared says, after it’s clear Jensen’s not going to finish that thought out loud. “That’s all I’m saying. Just be honest. With me, with Misha. With yourself.”

“Yeah,” Jensen grumbles, making a show at reluctance as he rolls Jared on his side again and spoons up behind him. He’s done arguing. He needs his arms around Jared, doesn’t feel right any other way. “Think you’re so smart, don’t you?”

Jared puts his hand over Jensen’s around his waist, slips his fingers between Jensen’s.

“Smarter than you,” Jared teases, settles in against Jensen and presses back.

Jared is good at misdirection, almost as good as Misha. Still, Jensen doesn’t take the bait. Jared broke his heart, just now. That can’t be overlooked.

“That was some fucked up shit you were accusing me of. Cheating on you? You’re lucky I didn’t punch you for that bullshit.” It’s teasing, the lilt of his voice, but he honestly means it. He’s pissed.

Jared breathes in, tenses, lets his fingertips play over Jensen’s bicep.

“I’m surprised you didn’t.”

“Yeah well. My daddy taught me never to hit a lady,” Jensen grumbles. He can’t hide his slight smile as he nudges the tip of his nose along the back of Jared’s ear. He nips and growls and he loves Jared, but he’s still pissed.

Jared laughs a little, but it dies quickly.

Jensen’s tense right up until his eyes slide shut, but sleep that night comes easy.

***

It’s two o’clock in the afternoon on a Thursday and Misha’s sitting on the couch in the living room, flipping through Jensen’s phone. He might be looking up some phone numbers he’s long forgotten, checking to see what the new version of Android looks like before he buys his own.

He could also be playing _Angry Birds_. 

Jensen never finds out, because as soon as he sits down next to Misha, he thumbs the screen off and sets the phone down on the side table.

“Hey,” Jensen says, handing Misha a glass of lemonade. Misha takes it, swallows down a small sip before he puts the glass next to Jensen’s phone. His hand jerks, twitches uncertainly and then lands on Jensen’s leg, just above his knee.

Jensen looks at it, but doesn’t say anything.

“You’ve been kind of... quiet.”

Misha snorts at that, but doesn’t answer.

“I want to ask if you’re okay,” Jensen tells him, “It’s been over a month, that you’ve been back, that we’ve had you back. And I don’t really know how you’re doing. I mean, sometimes you seem good, and sometimes… I just don’t know.”

“There’s a message on your phone,” Misha says, eyes flicking over to the table. “A text. From Jared. He uh… it says he loves you.”

“ ‘Kay,” Jensen croaks out, the word scratched and hoarse as he wipes up the condensation on the outside of his glass with his index finger. “Thanks. Are you…”

“I’m okay,” Misha says, cuts Jensen off before he can even finish asking. Which probably means that Misha is the opposite of okay. “I’m not _great_. But… I’m okay.”

“You seem… okay,” Jensen offers. And he does. Not great, like he said, but he has his moments. And those moments are increasing in frequency and duration, Jensen thinks. But he can’t read Misha quite the way he used to be able to. “You seem… happy?” 

“I’m okay,” Misha says again. “I’m… Just because I’m not throwing tantrums and crying myself to sleep, it doesn’t mean I’m not hurting.”

“I know that,” Jensen agrees. “This has been hard for everyone, Mish. I’m trying to make it as easy as possible, but fuck. I don’t know if I’m ever doing the right thing. I don’t know if anything I do or say or _don’t_ say is making things better or worse. But… But you look like you’re doing okay. Right? Settling in, getting used to… to everything?”

“I’m trying to be a big boy about this, Jensen, but… Think about what I must be going through, what I’m feeling.”

“That’s all I’ve been doing!”

“Yeah, but I don’t think you can really understand. Of course you can’t, because you’ve never had to go through something like this. I _finally_ come home, after _years_ thinking I never would, and I find out that my husband is in love with someone else.” Jensen opens his mouth to speak, but Misha shuts him up with a wave of his hand. “I don’t blame you for that – that’s not what this is about. I get it. I understand. But if you think I haven’t been dying inside since I saw you weren’t wearing your ring anymore, then you’re wrong.”

Well. Yeah, Jensen knew that Misha wouldn’t exactly be _happy_ about Jared, but wow. He feels like _shit_. And there’s really nothing he can say to that. He can’t apologise, because like Misha keeps telling him, he hasn’t done anything wrong.

“I don’t really know what to say to that. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you.”

“I know,” Misha says softly. “And I can see that you’re trying to make all this as painless as possible. And it’s… it’s weird. I really had no idea what to expect when I got back. After a while, I let myself stop believing that it would ever happen and then when it did, when we saw that boat… I spent three years without you, Jensen. I thought I’d never see you again. And I think… I think if there was someone there, on that island. Someone I could have been close to… I think I probably would have.”

Jensen knows it’s ridiculous and wildly hypocritical, but that stings. The idea of Misha with someone else actually physically hurts a little, even now and Misha chuckles.

“I got used to being without you. But I never stopped loving you.”

“Neither did I,” Jensen croaks. Fuck, he feels like he might cry. He reaches his hand out towards his husband but then he changes his mind, pauses with his fingers three inches from Misha’s jaw. His hand hovers there for a heartbeat before it falls to his side. That won’t help anyone, not right now. “I will always love you, Misha.”

“I know,” Misha says. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

Jensen smiles a little. “Nah, not really. Since when is love a bad thing?”

Misha doesn’t answer that. He doesn’t have to.

“So…” Jensen goes on, after a short silence. “Is there anything… I mean, I don’t want to make things any harder on you, but… I guess I’m wondering where we go from here. It breaks my heart that I’m hurting you, but it’s not like I can just never mention Jared again.”

“I’d never ask you to.”

“And you know you can stay here for as long as you need to. Right?”

Misha grins and cocks his head. “But I’m starting to cramp your style.”

“No,” Jensen lies. “No, of course not. You can stay here for as long as you need to. I mean that. But at some point, you’re going to have to think about what comes next for you. And I’ll be here for you, until you figure that out and even after. I’ll be here for you always. That’s what family does.”

“Yeah,” Misha says. He takes a breath and closes his eyes, breathes out and opens them. “Okay. I can’t… I don’t really know, right now. I just… I just needed you to know. Needed you to understand, I guess. Why it’s so hard for me. So yeah, I’m managing, I’m getting back to myself, slowly. But I’m not ready to think about the bigger picture right now.”

Jensen nods and the crack in his heart gets deeper.

“Take all the time you need.”

***

Jensen and Misha take Kyle to the zoo on the fourth of July.

There’s a parade of lions and otters and howler monkeys and Kyle presses his face up against the fences, hollers and shouts and holds hands with Jensen and Misha so he can skip up high along the path between exhibits. 

He gets to pet a camel and a boar rubs up against his leg and when they head toward the exit, there are about a dozen peacocks fanned out along the way.

They’ve seen polar bears and komodo dragons and stingrays. They’ve ridden elephants and called out to the wolves and stopped for nearly an hour to see the last of a certain breed of Mongolian horse, now extinct in the wild.

None of them says anything, but they’re all just a little bit sad.

Kyle gets so close that he’s nearly got his nose pressed up against a giraffe, who grazes from a tree well over their heads, and then the giraffe snorts and rears back and they laugh.

It’s been a good day. It’s been a _great_ day.

They come home in time for supper, barbeque burgers and set off fireworks in the backyard. It’s loud and it’s bright and they don’t stop shouting and cheering for a good two hours. They don’t stop feeling like a family, ever.

Kyle gets to bed a little after ten and Jensen and Misha sit down out back with a bottle of wine. They talk, they sit close together on that same back porch swing again. They rock and they fall into a comfortable silence, Jensen’s arm finds its way around Misha’s shoulders and Misha leans in close. 

For one minute, for one brief, out of time minute, it feels like nothing has changed, feels like Misha never went missing and this was where they were always meant to wind up.

For one minute, Jensen wishes that’s what had happened.

And then Misha kisses him.

It doesn’t feel anything like it did the first time.

***  
_  
They meet at a nightclub._

 _It’s loud, bass pounding a steady_ thump thump _through Jensen’s body and the multi-coloured laser lights are casting the faces in the room into a fantastic play of light and shadow. People look good like this, Jensen thinks. Features revealed one at a time, out of sequence, like the whole package is a secret, something you have to get close enough, intimate enough to learn._

_He’s there with a couple of his friends, downs a few shots with Jake and watches Gabe try and fail to successfully hit on three different women in under half an hour. Jensen’s not on the prowl, not tonight. He’s sort of been seeing this cute little redhead, his boss’ secretary, actually, but he still lets his eyes wander. It’s half the fun of going clubbing._

_There are a lot of good-looking people at places like this. And even the ones that he’d normally pass over look better through the haze of low light and alcohol, so it’s not unusual at all for someone to catch Jensen’s attention on any particular night._

_He doesn’t really think much of it when a pair of stunning blue eyes locks onto his from the other end of the bar, and Jensen’s pants suddenly feel a little too tight. The strobe overhead flashes bright green and Jensen can see the guy’s hair, dark and short, styled and gelled with what Jensen assumes is the sole purpose of making people want to mess it up._

_The lights change once again, to neon white to faded purple, and the man’s lips come into view next. They’re full, pink and moist, like he’s wearing lip gloss. Jensen wants to check for himself if that’s the case, check the flavour with his tongue. Something fruity, he’s sure._

_He’s never really been the type to just take what he wants, though. He knows how this goes – he’s not a stranger to one night stands. But even for that, Jensen’s the kind of guy who likes to be made to work for it. He likes the flirting, the innuendo, the genuine question mark hanging over the entire night because he doesn’t know until he makes his move whether they’re going to say yes or no._

_Jensen likes advanced warning and preparation and a slow build, and he’d never in a million years just walk up to someone and kiss them. No matter how much he might like to._

_So, he tucks his fantasies away, gives the guy an apologetic smile and turns back to where Jake and Gabe are ordering round number four._

_It appears that Blue Eyes doesn’t have Jensen’s hang-ups, because before Jensen can bring his new bottle of beer to his lips, the bar is digging into his back from where strong hands are holding him in place, and he’s got a face full of those sweet, perfect lips from a moment ago._

_The kiss only lasts seconds, shallow and short with only the barest hint of tongue and Jensen’s sort of dazed and panting when the guy pulls back. His friends, he notices out of the corner of his eye, are staring at him, a little slack-jawed._

_“Cherry,” Jensen says, stupidly. He’s staring into those eyes again and his pants are even tighter than before, and he was right. Cherry lip gloss._

_“Misha, actually,” the guy tells him, with a cocksure smile. “You want to get out of here?”_

_He thinks of Felicia for all of three seconds, but the fact is, the thing between them started out casual and it’s gotten even more so over the past few weeks. Really, they’re both just looking for an excuse to end it without insulting their boss. Jeff’s the one that set them up in the first place. He’s been labouring under the false illusion that he’s a good matchmaker for years now, and Jensen and Felicia both like their jobs._

_It’s not like him at all. This Misha guy is a sure thing, he’s coming on much stronger than Jensen goes for and there’s no challenge, no opportunity to play and discover. But there’s something about the guy, and Jensen can’t even think about saying no._

_Two hours later he’s easing the condom off his spent dick and collapsing into a panting, boneless pile of used up flesh on Misha’s bed._

_The guy is fucking incredible. And Jensen’s not just talking about the sex. That was actually pretty pedestrian. Okay, it was great,_ fantastic _really, but nothing he hasn’t done a hundred times before. What makes Misha incredible is the way he makes Jensen_ feel _, like the world’s a bigger place than he ever thought, but that’s okay, because Jensen wants to see it all._

_And they still haven’t really had a conversation._

_“So, Jensen,” Misha says, a minute or so later when their breathing has slowed and their hands are twined together, resting on Misha’s leg, that’s thrown over Jensen’s. “What do you like to do for fun?”_

_Jensen laughs out loud at that, then lets his eyes trail up and down Misha’s naked body, lets them linger over his crotch, where his cock is getting soft against one toned thigh and his belly is glistening and slick with his own come._

_“Well…” he drawls, propping himself up on one elbow so he’s facing Misha. He’s still smiling, wide and high, so his teeth are showing and his eyes crinkle at the corners. God, he’s happy. He doesn’t even know this guy, but Jensen is happy here, with him._

_Misha rolls his eyes, but he smiles, too._

_“Give it an hour or so,” he says. “In the mean time, are you hungry? Really good sex always makes me crave peanut butter cookies. We could bake some.”_

_“You want to bake cookies? Now?”_

_Misha shrugs, then stretches out, arms up over his head and his back arched so the outline of his ribs is visible under his skin. Jensen shivers._

_“Sure, why not? Tomorrow’s not a school day and if you want to go for round two – which I sincerely hope you do – I’m going to need sustenance.”_

_“School day?” Jensen asks. “You’re a student?” He looks more than a little old for that, but hey, Jensen’s not one to judge._

_Misha shakes his head. “I’m a teacher. Fourth grade. So, cookies?” He sits up, looks at Jensen with such a hopefully adorable grin that Jensen just has to lean in and kiss him again._

_“I know I’m probably supposed to play this thing cool,” Jensen says after he pulls back. Misha’s eyes are glazed over and his breathing is shallow. Jensen likes it. “You know, go home after the cookies and leave you wanting more, wait three days to call so I don’t look desperate.”_

_“You flew past desperate half an hour ago, when you were literally begging to fuck me,” Misha teases. Jensen blushes and Misha laughs, leans in to kiss his cheek. “But I promise I won’t tell anyone.”_

_“Thanks,” Jensen mumbles. “So since I can’t look like much more of an idiot, I might as well just tell you. I want to see you again. Tomorrow, if you’re free. And the next day, if possible. Can I take you to dinner?”_

_Misha sighs then, not the happy kind, and he inches away from Jensen on the bed, rubs a hand over his chin._

_“Jensen…” he starts, and he’s suddenly full of a lot less playful energy than he has been all night. Uh oh. Jensen knows what that means._

_“Shit. So, this is where I get let down easy, eh? Guess I_ can _look like more of an idiot.”_

_Misha’s smile comes back, a little less bright than before. It’s still a nice smile. It still makes Jensen want to smile back._

_“It’s not that,” Misha tells him. “I would love to see you again. Hell, I’d kind of love for you to just never leave. But it’s… complicated.”_

_“You’re not married, are you?” Jensen asks. He’s mostly joking, but he tries to remember if he saw any signs of another person living in the apartment with Misha. He doesn’t think so, but sometimes two lives can look remarkably like one._

_“Not married,” Misha confirms. “I’m having a baby.”_

_Jensen screws up his face and looks pointedly at Misha’s midsection._

_“I know I’m good,” Jensen jokes, “but I’m not_ that _good.”_

_“No,” Misha laughs, shaking his head. Then he sobers. “My ex-girlfriend, Rachel. She’s pregnant. She’s due in four months. Most people aren’t interested in sticking around once they find that out, so I get it if you want to disappear after tonight. No hard feelings.”_

_Wow. Okay, that’s a curveball._

_“Well that’s… that’s still four months away, right? We’re kind of getting ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?”_

_“Okay. If you think you can handle dating me knowing that in a few short months you’re going to have a single father for a boyfriend, then yes, pick me up at seven.”_

_“Single father?” Jensen asks. “As in… You’re going to raise the baby? On your own?”_

_“Rachel doesn’t want children. We found out she was pregnant after we’d already split up. She wanted to abort, but I convinced her to carry the baby to term and I agreed to take full responsibility. In fact, as soon as she delivers, she’s signing the child away and hopping on a plane to Paris. So, it’s just me.”_

_“Wow.”_

_“Yeah. So… cookies?”_

_Jensen doesn’t really know what to do with all that. He likes Misha, but shit. Dating a single parent is a pretty big deal and he’s self-aware enough to know he’s probably not ready for that. No matter how good Misha is at sucking dick._

_“Cookies,” Jensen agrees with a decisive nod, because Misha was right. Great sex sure works up an appetite._

_The rest he can worry about tomorrow.  
_

***

Jensen goes with it at first, caught up in the moment, caught up in how _right_ his husband’s lips feel pressed up against his own, how much he’s missed the feel of Misha’s jaw angled against his and Misha’s tongue slipping inside his mouth.

He’s caught up, that’s all. It’s been a good day, it’s been a good evening and something about Misha tucked up under his arm feels so natural that… But no. No, that’s not what they are to each other, not anymore.

Jared’s the only one that gets to touch him like that, the only one he _wants_ to touch him like that.

He doesn’t stop kissing Misha, though. Not right away. He knows it’s wrong, but he can’t help how much he wants it. Can’t help how much he loves the play of muscle under his hand, where it’s pressed between Misha’s shoulder blades.

Can’t help how much he gets lost and never wants to be found again.

But no matter how good it feels, it’s not what he wants, not really. And as much as it kills him, he knows he needs to stop. It’s right, but it’s not.

He eases off gently, slowly, teases at Misha’s lips as the kiss lessens in intensity. He savours every moment, knows that this will be the last kiss they share and when Misha’s lips part from his for the last time, he takes a deep breath, braces himself for the rest of his life.

It’s like a gouge out of his chest, a wide, gaping hole where his heart should be, so sudden and jarring he nearly falls in. He knew it was over. A long time ago, he _knew_ that, but that was all circumstance. This is a choice. This is _his_ choice.

He hates it.

“Misha,” he sighs, the word coming out ragged and breathy. “You know we can’t.”

Misha just smiles though, wipes the corner of Jensen’s mouth with the pad of his thumb and Jensen’s eyes flutter shut, briefly.

“What I know,” Misha tells him, “is that I had to try. What we have… It’s not what we used to have, but it’s good. Isn’t it good, Jensen?”

“God,” Jensen breathes. It’s not fair for Misha to break his heart like this, it’s not fair for him to tease Jensen with what he could have had. “Yeah, it’s good. It’s… fuck, Misha. I don’t know what it is. We haven’t been together in… It’s been three years. I thought you were dead, for three years. And I moved on. And I love you, I’m always going to love you, but neither of us is the same person we were before you went away. Maybe we fit together again, maybe we don’t, I don’t know. What I do know, is that I fit with Jared. I’m in love with Jared.”

Misha nods, smiles a little sadly and takes a sip of his wine.

“I kind of figured. Every day I was gone, I wanted to get back, to see Kyle grow up. I wanted to get back, because I could feel you slipping away. The more time passed, the more I knew you’d find someone to make you happy. He makes you happy, doesn’t he?”

Jensen takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“I don’t even know what to say. This isn’t how I pictured us, not even close. But yeah, Misha. Jared makes me happy. I’m… I’m sorry.”

Misha shakes his head and sits up straighter, nudges his thigh tighter against Jensen’s.

“Don’t be.”

He turns slightly, cups his hand around the back of Jensen’s neck and tilts his head down, presses Jensen’s forehead to his own.

He breathes in and out but Jensen doesn’t.

Misha chuckles a little when he lets go and Jensen snaps back against the wooden slats.

"I mean it. Don’t be sorry. Just don’t let another good thing slip away from you.”

Jensen half-laughs, half-sobs, wipes at his watering eyes and buries his face in his hands.

“Jesus. How… You’re being this amazing on purpose, right?” he asks. “So I’ll stay with you?”

“If I thought it would work,” Misha answers, hand pressed comfortingly to Jensen’s shoulder, “I would play you in a heartbeat. But you’ve moved past us and I don’t think there’s any going back. So… so go tell Jared I want to meet him. Tell him… tell him you’re sorry you’ve been spending so much time with me and pray that he doesn’t send your neglectful ass packing. I would.”

Jensen laughs a little, cocks his head to where Misha’s knee is still pressed to his own.

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Misha, I...”

“Seriously, Jensen. Just go. He won’t wait around forever.”

There’s nothing that Jensen can really say to that, not without feeling like an asshole.

***  
When he gets to Jared’s place it’s almost midnight.

Jared answers the door after only a few seconds, confused frown pulling at the corners of his mouth and eyes.

“Jensen,” he says, not opening the door any further than he needs to for Jensen to see him. “What are you doing here?”

Jensen shrugs, feeling a little uncomfortable all of a sudden, a little unwelcome. He’s never felt like this before, at Jared’s apartment.

“I just… Can I come in?”

“Sure, yeah,” Jared says, stepping back and opening the door further, like he hadn’t even thought to invite Jensen inside, but now that it’s been mentioned, it’s obvious. “Sure, of course.”

He hears Jared shut the door behind him, but Jensen’s already stepped into Jared’s living room. Well, the room that serves as both his living room and dining room, and there’s a man sitting on Jared’s couch.

There’s a half empty bottle of wine on the coffee table in front of him and there are dirty dishes, burnt out candles, the remnants of a cozy dinner for two on the dining table.

The lights are low, the music on the stereo is James _fucking_ Brown and Jensen clenches his fists so tight his nails dig into his palms hard enough to cut the skin in a couple of places.

“I…” he says, head shaking slightly as he tries to make sense of what he’s seeing.

“Jensen, this is Ken,” Jared says. “He’s new at the home, just started a couple of weeks ago.”

Right. Co-worker. That doesn’t exactly explain the cozy holiday dinner. His eyes narrow even further, he doesn’t say anything, just glares at _Ken_ until the guy squirms right up off his seat.

“Right,” Ken says. “Well, I should be heading out anyway. It was really great of you to have me over, Jared.”

Jared opens his mouth, looks like he’s going to tell Ken that he doesn’t need to go anywhere, but he seems to think better of it. He closes his mouth into a smile, starts to walk with Ken toward the door.

“Yeah, anytime, man,” he says. Ken slips into his shoes and Jared stops him with a hug on his way out. “Don't be a stranger.”

Jared closes the door, grabs two beers out of the fridge. He hands one to Jensen and Jensen follows him into the living room again.

“Who was that?” he asks. He doesn’t even try not to sound bitchy. It wouldn’t work, anyway and he doesn’t even care.

“Ken. From work. I just told you that. We ran into each other last weekend when I was out with Chad and he’s new in town, so I wanted to help make him feel at home.”

“Yeah, mission accomplished.” And okay, yes. He can see the hypocrisy here, of course he can. He just came from swapping spit on his back porch with his husband, for fuck’s sake. Whatever Jared was doing with this _Ken_ guy, Jensen can’t really say anything.

Jared raises an eyebrow, as if to ask _really?_ , and Jensen lets out a low chuckle.

“Yeah, okay. Sorry. So uh…” He falters then, not really sure what to say or how to say it. He doesn’t know how shit with Jared got so fucked up. It shouldn’t be awkward between them, not ever. It’s _Jared_. “Did you set off any fireworks tonight? We did a bunch in the backyard. Kyle went through an entire box of sparklers, kept writing his name in the sky.”

“Wish I could have seen that,” Jared tells him, smile slight and off-centred. There’s more than a little weight to the statement. “Did you come here for anything specific? It’s late, and I’ve got to work in the morning.”

“Can I stay here?”

“What like… for the night?”

“Yeah.” He reaches his hand out towards Jared, pauses and then thinks ‘fuck it’. He crosses the four steps that are separating them and he wraps his arms around Jared’s waist. He ducks his head and kisses the side of Jared’s neck, presses harder and opens his mouth to suck a little bit when Jared moans and cranes his neck, to give Jensen better access.

“Ngh,” Jared grunts. His arms come up; one hand at the small of Jensen’s back, the other the back of his head and he pulls him close, grinding their hips together. He’s already starting to get hard. So is Jensen. They’re both so easy for each other, still. It’s sort of grounding. “Fine. But it’s gonna be a quickie. I really do have to be up early tomorrow.”

That snaps Jensen’s attention back and with great effort, he tears his lips from Jared’s neck.

“No,” he says. “I don’t want to fuck.”

“Then what are you doing here this late?” Jared asks.

“That… Do you really feel like I only want to see you when I want sex?”

Jared sighs. He rubs one gigantic hand through his hair, messing it up even more than it usually is. He shakes his head and then starts down the hall to the bedroom. Jensen follows. Jensen will always follow.

“No,” Jared says, as he strips out of his shirt, tossing it on the floor. That shit always drives Jensen crazy and even after all this time he has to fight the urge to pick it up and put it in the laundry basket. He sheds his pants next and then he’s standing in front of Jensen in just his boxers. Which is really unfair. It makes it really fucking hard to concentrate on the conversation at hand. “I don’t think you’re using me for sex, Jensen. Maybe the problem is that we just fall into sex because there’s nothing else left.”

“Jared, that’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? Everything we used to have, everything that I used to give you, you get that from Misha now. Whether you guys are _together_ or not, it doesn’t matter. You live your life with him. I only get you in the dark. And I can’t anymore, Jensen. I need you all the time. I deserve that.”

Jared climbs into bed, slips under the covers. Jensen just stares at him.

“Are you breaking up with me?” he manages to squeak out, after several endless heartbeats.

Jared rolls his eyes and flips down the blankets on Jensen’s side of the bed.

“Get in,” he says, and Jensen scrambles to obey, leaving a swift trail of his clothes in his wake. “I’m not breaking up with you, you dumbass. I’m telling you to smarten the fuck up, because I’m sick of being your bit on the side. If I’m going to be your boyfriend, you’re going to have to treat me like that’s what I am. I want to take Kyle to the movies and I want to go to dinner at your parent’s house and I want to be able to come to your house. I want to sleep with you, in your bed. _Our_ bed, Jensen. I want… I want to meet Misha.”

“Done,” Jensen says, immediately. “Misha wants to meet you, too. And you’re right, Jared. I’ve been completely unfair to you. I’ve been worried about Kyle and Misha and myself, but I didn’t really stop to think that this whole thing would be hard on you, as well. I’ve been… confused? I don’t know. But you’re right; we can’t live in this limbo forever. I want us to be okay again, and I will do better, I promise you.”

“That sounds really good, Jensen…”

“Hey, if you think that sounds good, you should have heard the speech I gave Misha. All about how you complete me or some crap. You would have wept, man.”

Jared smiles. 

“Like I said, it _sounds_ nice, but you’ve said it all before. When Misha first came back, you said we’d be fine, that nothing would change, but things are so different now, I don’t even recognise us. I want to believe you, but you’re gonna have to prove it.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Jared takes a deep breath and turns on the bed so he’s completely facing Jensen. He takes Jensen’s hands in both of his and looks him straight in the eyes.

“I want…” he starts, then takes another breath. “I want you to get a divorce.”

Wow. 

Wow, Jensen doesn’t really have a response to that. It’s something he knows, something he’s known all along, that he’s got to get around to sooner or later. But, like everything else, he’s sorting been hoping not to have to deal with it, if he just pretends it’s not really a problem.

He nods though, slowly and licks his lips.

“I gotta be honest with you, Jared. That’s… That’s gonna be a really uncomfortable conversation. I don’t even know what I would say to him.”

“How about… ‘Misha, I want a divorce’?”

Jensen smiles at that, squeezes Jared’s hands.

“That easy, huh?”

“Yeah. Unless you don’t want one. I mean, he already knows we’re together, right?” Jared asks. “So… Just be honest. Tell him you want to be with me, and that can’t happen if you’re still married to him.”

“I guess,” Jensen answers, a non-committal mumble.

“Jensen… _Do_ you want a divorce? Babe, I know this is big. _Huge_. I know I’m making a really fucking aggressive play here and I know that if you end your marriage for _me_ , that puts me on the hook in a serious way. But I want that. I want what we were on the verge of before Misha came back. This is my move, Jensen. This is how I tell you am _all in_.”

“He’s still Kyle’s dad,” Jensen tells him. Then quieter, “I still love him.”

“I would never ask you to cut him out of your life. The three of you need each other and you always will. Just… not the same way I need you. I can’t be with you if you’re _married_ , Jensen.”

“I…” Jensen starts. He swallows and opens his mouth to try again, but his throat is suddenly dry and his eyes are stinging, his nerves shot. “I don’t want to be married. Not to Misha, not anymore. Hell, I haven’t been, not in a couple of years. Not really.” Jared knows that, of course. He _has_ to know that. He wouldn’t have put up with so much of Jensen’s shit if he _didn’t_ know that. If he didn’t know that Jensen would only want him, forever.

“But fuck, Jared. I don’t want to have to get a _divorce_. I mean, I know I need to do it, but… I never thought that would be me, you know. Divorced. Jesus.”

“Breathe,” Jared tells him, and then Jensen is lying flat on his side, with Jared facing him. “This isn’t a situation anybody could have seen coming. It’s not your fault. You didn’t screw anything up, you didn’t fail. It’s just life. And you don’t have to call the lawyer tonight, so just relax.”

“Oh God,” Jensen says. He can feel his heart fluttering in his chest and he’s getting kind of dizzy. Lawyers. Jesus Christ, how is this his life?

“It’s gonna be okay,” Jared whispers, before he leans in and kisses Jensen gently on the mouth. “You’re really gonna stay the whole night?”

“Mmhmm,” Jensen answers, chasing Jared’s lips as he pulls away. He’s unsettled, his heart won’t stop racing. “Roll over.”

Jared goes when Jensen rolls him, easy and pliant and then Jensen wraps around Jared from behind.

“Hey, Jensen?” Jared mumbles a few minutes later, when neither of them is anywhere near sleep.

“Hm?”

“Ken from work?”

Jensen cracks one eye open at that and croaks out “What about him?”

“He’s not even gay.”

Jensen laughs and squeezes Jared tighter, holds him like that until the sun comes up.

***

He doesn’t bring up the idea of divorce with Misha, not right away.

He does introduce him to Jared, though.

It’s not a formal affair, he doesn’t schedule an event where all their friends can stand by and watch, offer up opinions and letter grades, pick a team. Everybody loves Jared. Hell, even Misha’s parents love Jared, but he knows there’s not a single person in his life that loves Jared more than Misha.

Good thing it’s not up to them.

They meet in the park, on a Monday afternoon.

It’s an accident, mostly. Jensen knew Misha was taking Kyle that day, heard them talking about packing extra bread for the geese and not forgetting the aluminum bat, because Kyle needs to practice on something that isn’t wood. He might have forgotten, but then again, he might not have. And it’s the same park that he’s been to with Jared for a hundred lunches, when the weather is nice, so it’s not even a coincidence, not really.

It’s two halves of Jensen’s life colliding, finally, inevitably. It’s everything Jensen has been afraid to face, brought to light. It’s Misha finally seeing, finally closing the book on Jensen for good. He hadn’t realised he’d feel that as such a loss. It’s been over with Misha for a damn long time, but now it’s really _over_. It’s over, even though Misha’s standing right there, right in front of him where Jensen could reach out and touch. He’s standing there and smiling, but it’s over.

Jared’s standing next to him, under the tree where they first met. Jensen’s got a brown paper bag in his hand, filled with peanut butter sandwiches and carrot sticks and Kyle is flying their way, baseball mitt falling forgotten to the ground along the way.

He comes bounding over the protruding tree root along the wide patch of grass and Misha follows more slowly behind, stops after Kyle’s ploughed his head into Jared’s stomach.

Misha and Jared have never met before, but that doesn’t stop them from recognising one another.

“Misha,” Jared greets, an honest to God smile on his face after he’s got one arm full of Kyle. “Hey.”

Misha shakes Jared’s hand, pumps it twice, carefully and then holds it in place as he looks him in the eye. Jared lets him.

“Hello, Jared. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Jared doesn’t have time to say that that’s probably not true before Kyle is bowling him over, asking if he wants to race to the snow cone stand.

They do race. Kyle wins and they come back with four cones. 

Jensen and Jared both skip out of work that afternoon and while it’s not the most pleasant few hours Jensen can imagine, it goes a whole lot smoother than he feared.

***

“He’s nice,” Misha tells Jensen. It's Tuesday after super, after Kyle’s gone to change his shirt because he’d gotten tomato sauce all over the one he’d been wearing. “Jared, I mean. Not that you need my approval, but… He’s good with Kyle.”

“I wouldn’t have let him anywhere near our son if I’d thought he wasn’t.”

“No, I know. I just… It’s not easy for me,” Misha admits, twirling a few errant strands of spaghetti around the tines of his fork. “Seeing you with someone. And of all the someones I just think… He was nice. He was funny. I don’t hate him. I’d really like to, but I don’t.”

“I get it,” Jensen says, smiling slightly. Misha doesn’t need to say this, not any of this. God, Jensen hates himself, a little. “Thanks. You don’t have to… Thanks.”

Misha nods, Kyle comes back to the table and Jensen gets the ice cream out of the freezer.

***

It’s pushing August, a month gone by with Jared coming by every Tuesday night for pizza with the family, the _whole_ family and then leaving again before Kyle gets tucked in to bed.

The first time, he’s not gonna lie, is a little weird. But Jared is his usual charming self, Misha is unbelievably, amazingly welcoming and while Jensen cowers in the corner like a giant sissy, Kyle serves as moderator and everybody gets along reasonably well.

It only gets better after that.

It’s never perfect, of course it’s not, but everyone seems to be getting used to each other, to be feeling out where they fit in and… fitting there.

Everyone but Jensen, really. Jared never lets on that he’s anything but fine with the arrangement, Misha doesn’t hide the fact that it’s hard on him, but he’s gracious as hell and Kyle is just stoked to have all three of his parents in the same room, once a week.

Jensen just feels guilty that his affections are divided, that he loves Jared but he won’t give up Misha. He wants them both. In different ways, with different kinds of heat driving his desire, but he _does_ want them both.

He still spends every Friday night at Jared’s apartment, but now he doesn’t come home until well past lunch, the next day. He’s not there to put the kettle on in the morning on Saturday, and nothing really falls apart.

It’s… he doesn’t even know what he feels, but he’s pretty sure it’s a good thing.

Misha’s still working at the library and when he can’t take Kyle with him Jared picks him up, takes him to the mall or to his apartment and holds onto him until Jensen or Misha is free. Sometimes even longer.

Once or twice, Kyle spends the night alone with Jared, for no other reason than they’re so far into ‘Ocarina of Time’ that they can’t possibly quit to bring Kyle home.

Jensen and Misha spend those nights playing chess and falling asleep on the porch swing.

And Jensen doesn’t even want to kiss him.

***

Jensen comes home early from work on a Saturday afternoon. He smiles at the blaring sounds of gunfire and explosions coming from the den upstairs and when Misha comes out of his bedroom, Jensen almost falls over. He’s dressed to the nines, dark, fitted jeans and a crisp white shirt, slim tie and black suit jacket. His hair is flattened down, slicked back with product and in complete counterpoint to just about every single other time Jensen has seen him.

He looks good though, Jensen can’t deny that, so he whistles, looks him up and down.

“Wow,” he says. “You look… I mean... What’s the occasion?”

Misha looks up from where he’s smoothing down the bottom of his shirt over his pants. His smile is slight, his eyes hooded.

“Date,” he says. “I uh… I have a date.”

Jensen doesn’t know why, but he takes that news like a kick to the chest. He can’t hide it either, doesn’t even want to. Misha deserves to know exactly how Jensen feels about it.

“I hate him already,” he says. Misha laughs.

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. He’s not good enough for you.”

Misha doesn’t say anything for a beat, another. He straightens his tie and kicks out the wrinkles in his jeans and the doorbell rings.

“He’ll have to be,” Misha finally says, almost too quiet for Jensen to hear, when Jensen turns to answer the door. Then, louder, “Be nice.”

Sebastian turns out to be a douche and half, and Misha should know better than to go anywhere near the guy, but that’s not really Jensen’s call. He bites his tongue and wishes them well and tries not to wait up.

Misha doesn’t come home that night and Jensen doesn’t get much sleep.

***

It’s not Friday.

That’s what Jared says when Jensen surprises him by picking him up from work on Sunday night. And he’s right, it isn’t Friday. But Misha came home just before lunch that afternoon and promised Kyle a _Star Wars_ movie marathon and Chinese delivery and Jensen was kind of itching to get out of the house, anyway.

He doesn’t take them anywhere fancy, just somewhere close, somewhere comfortable, somewhere he can sit close to Jared and forget that he’s freaked out about Misha’s new jackass boyfriend.

Jared looks at him funny for going on half an hour, but to his credit he doesn’t ask. He doesn’t have to.

“Misha’s been seeing someone,” Jensen says, completely out of the blue, over a basket of chicken wings and a half-price pitcher of beer. “Well, it’s only been a week, but he’s been out with the guy three times, so…”

He trails off with a shrug and washes down some hot sauce with a swig from his glass.

“Oh,” Jared says. His eyes are widened in surprise, but he’s smiling. A real smile, like he’s honestly happy about that. “That’s good. Right?”

Jensen shrugs again.

“Yeah,” he says, but he doesn’t sound convincing and Jared gives him a look that effectively calls him out on that line of bullshit. Jensen tries again. “It’s good. It really is. He needs something like that, something… But the guy is an asshole!”

“Really?” Jared asks, frowning. “Misha seems like a pretty smart guy. Doesn’t seem like the type to waste his time on someone who isn’t worth it.”

“Well, sometimes he can be stupid,” Jensen answers, doesn’t meet Jared’s eyes and feels his face flush. His fingers are sticky with hot sauce and he wipes them off on a napkin.

“Or, you’re jealous.”

Jensen drops the napkin and his face jerks up, looks at Jared and scowls.

“I’m not jealous,” he insists. Even he doesn’t believe it. Truth is, Sebastian had seemed like a pretty decent guy, if a little showy. Sure, he’d very obviously been into Misha’s bod, but that was the first thing Jensen had noticed about Misha, back when they first met, so it’s not like he has room to talk. “I’m not. It’s just… It’s just weird, I guess.”

Jared nods and licks some blue cheese dip off his fingers. Jensen bites his lip, momentarily distracted by that picture. What? Jared’s got a great mouth, sue him.

“It’s probably always going to be weird, a little,” Jared tells him. “You two have history, you’ll always be connected and before you go embarrassing yourself by confessing your undying love, I know you’re happy with me.” They share a smile before Jared goes on. “But I get that there might always be a part of you that feels… I don’t know, wrong, I guess, when you see the man you married with somebody else.”

Jensen sometimes can’t believe how lucky he is. Seriously. Jared is the best boyfriend in the history of the fucking world. He doesn’t tell him that, though. Jared’s right that he’s been kind of a pansy-ass sap, lately. But that does remind him of something that he really should mention to Jared.

“I uh… I called a lawyer, a couple of days ago.”

Jared’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, at that.

“Really? Wow. What, uh… What’s happening with that?”

It’s cute. Jared’s trying to act cool, but he’s horrible at pretending to be anything other than what he is. He’s nervous, he’s anxious, he wants Jensen to tell him they’ll be together forever.

It’s even cuter, because of course they will.

“Nothing yet,” he says. He can see Jared curl in on himself a little, see that disappointed little frown and the annoyed twitch in his left eye. Jared has the patience of a saint, but Jensen hasn’t been making it easy on him. “I haven’t talked to Misha yet, but the lawyer said when we’re ready to go ahead with… with the divorce, it should be pretty straightforward. Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Yeah, the only thing that might give us a bit of trouble is Kyle. I’m not gonna give him up, Jared. But Misha shouldn’t have to, either.”

“Why don’t you talk to him about it before you do too much worrying?” And now it’s not just Jared pretending, not just Jared being strong. This is Jared convinced he’s right. It’s a little contagious. “It’s not gonna get ugly, Jensen. I can pretty much guarantee it.”

“How do you know?” Jensen asks. He wants to believe Jared, he really does. He doesn’t think he could handle it if Misha tried to take Kyle away. He loves them both too much to go through that.

“I know _you_ ,” Jared answers, simply.

***

Turns out, Jared is right.

“What’s this?” Jensen asks, flapping his hand down at the thick stack of paper on the dining table. Kyle’s spending the night with Jared again, and Jensen has been studying, practising. He’d been planning on kicking Misha’s ass tonight. His King was going to… mate Misha’s queen. Or maybe something a little less pornographic sounding. 

Okay, so maybe he hasn’t been practising so much as he downloaded a chess app for his phone and never once opened it. He’s never been very good at chess. Honestly, he’s not even sure how all the pieces move, but Misha always goes easy on him and Jensen likes to watch Misha, the way his brows crinkle and his fingers move over the wood he carved himself.

It’s calming, most of the time.

“Divorce papers.”

“It’s… what?” 

Jensen blinks and opens his eyes wide, takes a step back like the sheets of paper will burn him.

“Divorce, Jensen,” Misha says. “We need to. I don’t want to have to do it either, but…”

“You can’t take Kyle,” Jensen says, sudden and unabashed, like the words have been on the tip of his tongue for months. Maybe they have been. “He’s mine, too. Just as much as he is yours. You can’t just…”

***

_The truth is, Jensen’s been thinking about it since their first night together._

_It’s not like he’s been planning it since then, because that would be insane, but it’s always sort of been there, in the back of his mind. There’s a baby coming. A baby means a family and Jensen’s thrown himself into this relationship, into_ Misha _with reckless abandon and he doesn’t want to have to take a step back next month, when everything changes._

_He wants to change things even before that happens._

_He’s more in love with Misha than he’s ever been before. It’s scary and it’s exciting and his head is swimming with how rapidly they’ve progressed, how three months ago he’d been happy with casual dates and the occasional hook-up and now all he wants is to see the same face next to him every morning for the rest of this life._

_And he’s_ excited _to meet this new little person that’s only a few weeks away and he wants a life with them both. He wants forever with them both. He knows this._

_So, it makes sense. It’s not rash and it’s not crazy, it’s not even really all that impulsive. Jensen’s thought it through, weighed the pros and cons and he’s following his heart. It just makes sense._

_“Wow,” Jensen says, smiling softly as he fingers the edges of the blurry black and white image of an almost-baby. They’ve just gotten back from Rachel’s ultrasound appointment and the technician had given them a few printouts, to take home. “A boy. God, Misha, this is so fucking cool. I want him to be mine. Rachel doesn’t want him and I know this sounds crazy and... can I…? I want him to be mine.”_

_Misha leans over the back of the couch to place a beer in Jensen’s hand, and presses a kiss to the side of his neck._

_“I love you,” Misha tells him, after he walks around the couch to sit down next to Jensen._

_Jensen coughs then, a small, nervous sound as he leans over to put the picture and his bottle of beer both down on the coffee table. He reaches over to take Misha’s beer from him as well._

_Misha opens his mouth to protest, but Jensen cuts him off with a quick shake of his head. He giggles a little, can’t believe he’s actually about to do this, but when his hand slips inside his pocket and his fingers curl around the tiny, velvet box, he knows he’s doing the right thing._

_He smiles up at Misha as he falls to one knee and opens the box up, holds it out with a bright white gold band nestled inside soft purple._

_“Then marry me,” he says, holds his breath for the longest five seconds of his entire life. Then he lets it out in a whoosh when Misha’s face breaks out into a wide grin and he pulls Jensen off the floor and into his lap._

_“Yes.”_

***

“I’m not going to take him,” Misha says, covering Jensen’s shaking hand with his own steady one. “God, Jensen… You know me better than that.”

Jensen really does, is the thing. He can’t help the fact that he’s scared, though.

“So… what…?” Yeah, he’s not very good at this.

“Joint custody,” Misha says, turns Jensen’s hand over so his thumb drags along Jensen’s palm. “That’s what I think, at least. I uh… I put an offer in. For a house, a few blocks over. The abandoned one, over on Hurst? The bank owns it, but everything is up to code and it’s move-in ready, as soon as they accept my offer. The insurance company doesn’t love me, but they _did_ pay out. And if I make it through one more interview, I’ve got a job teaching at Kyle’s school, in September.”

Misha takes a breath, waits for Jensen to say something, but when he doesn’t, Misha starts talking again. Which means he’s nervous about this, because Misha has never had a problem with silence, not ever.

“So… So I’ll still be in the neighbourhood. It’s not like one of us will have to take weekends, or wait for summer or school holidays. He can go back and forth. And I mean, we can come up with some sort of schedule with the lawyers, if it would make you feel better, but I’d rather not. I think we should just let things happen, see what kind of rhythm we settle into. Jensen? Say something.”

“You…” Jensen starts, shakes his head and frowns. He licks his lips and shakes his head again. “You’ve been planning this. You’ve been… you’ve been trying to break it to me, gently. You’ve been trying to ease me into this divorce!”

Jensen’s voice is raised and excited by the end, indignant and… he wants to be pissed, heartbroken, but he isn’t really either. Honestly, he’s relieved. Relived that he’s been let off the hook so easily and relieved, more than _anything_ he’s relived that he won’t have to let Kyle go.

At most, Kyle will spend four nights a week within walking distance of him and Jensen and Jared will get a lot more alone time and Kyle will grow up with three hopelessly devoted and loving parents.

He doesn’t want Misha to go, but he _does_ want Misha to go. Because he wants Jared. He wants Jared to move in, like he’d planned. He doesn’t even care that they’ll have to pay eight months worth of rent for an apartment they’re not even using, he just wants Jared with him, all the time.

“You’d never have done it,” Misha answers. “I know you, Jensen. You’d have put it off over and over and eventually Jared would have gotten sick of waiting. And you’d have resented me for it and ended up alone.”

“I wouldn’t…” he starts, but Misha cuts him off.

“It’s easier, this way. I need to get out of here. I shouldn’t have stayed for even this long. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Jensen, I truly do. You’ve been amazing, you’ve put your life on hold, for me.”

“Misha, God,” Jensen says, even though Misha’s clearly not done yet. “How could you… Did you really think I’d just… I don’t know. Drop you off at your parent’s house with a ‘good luck and see you ‘round’? This? What I did? It was _nothing_. You’re still my husband, man. At least for a little while longer. And even if you weren’t... I still love you. Nothing is ever going to change that and no matter what else I’m doing, I will _always_ be there for you. Don’t you ever think I won’t.”

“I know that, Jensen. And you know I would do anything for you, as well. Which is why I need to leave. I need to move on, too. I need my own space to live my own life and I… I really do wish you well.”

Jensen doesn’t say anything, just nods, grabs the stack of papers from the table into his hands and takes them into his office, to read them over.

Everything looks pretty straightforward (not that Jensen has much experience with this kind of shit) but some details need ironing out. Misha hasn’t asked for spousal support, but Jensen makes twice as much money as he does and if he’s taking half the responsibility for Kyle, Jensen feels like he should give him _something_. He doesn’t want Misha to want for anything, ever.

He has, however, asked for 25% of the cash from the sale of their old house. It’s way too small, considering that Misha built about half of it himself, but these are the kinds of arguments that Jensen is happy to have.

He hasn’t asked for anything specific regarding Kyle, just proposed a fair and even division of custody, with major life decisions requiring mutual consent.

It shouldn’t take too long to work this into something they can both agree to. Shouldn’t take long until Jensen isn’t married anymore.

He’s not sure how he feels about that.

***

Misha’s real estate agent calls first in the morning and lets him know that he can pick the keys up as soon as the bank opens and he can move in whenever he’s ready. Jensen doesn’t offer to help him pack his stuff, doesn’t think he even could. 

Misha doesn’t have much, anyway.

He heads out around ten with Matt (and Matt’s pick-up truck) and he calls Jensen in the middle of the afternoon, after a trip to Ikea. Ikea isn’t Misha’s all-time favourite store, but he only picks up what he’ll absolutely need – a bed, a small kitchen table and chairs, a dresser and a couch. They’ll do until he can find – or make – something better, he says and when he does, the local homeless shelter could always do with donations.

He’s got his major appliances scheduled to be delivered tomorrow.

Jensen and Kyle walk over to see him not long after Jensen hangs up. It takes less than five minutes and there aren’t any busy streets to cross and Jensen figures Kyle could probably walk this on his own after a few times. 

When they get to the house – smaller than Jensen’s, darker, with the front porch painted deep green and a purple trim around the windows – Kyle pounds the scratched stainless knocker on the white front door. Misha answers a few seconds later and this whole experience is so fucking surreal Jensen’s head is sort of spinning.

It’s good, though. Moving on, and all that.

They help him set up his furniture and help him eat the dinner for four he orders from Manchu Wok while Kyle is hammering some finishing nails into the dresser. 

“You’re gonna need a TV,” Kyle says, once supper is finished and there’s not much left to do.

Jensen laughs and so does Misha, but he agrees.

“I am. I’ll go shopping tomorrow. Do you want to help me pick one out?”

“And then can we have a sleepover?” Kyle asks, eyes wide and hopeful, with a hint of a smile. Like he already knows the answer’s going to be ‘yes’.

Misha looks at Jensen, probably for permission, but that’s not entirely up to Jensen anymore, so he just shrugs.

“We’ll need to get you some stuff for here, too. Like… oh, a _bed_ , right? Unless you want to sleep on the floor?”

“In a sleeping bag?” Kyle asks, like that’s the best idea ever. Like only a seven year old can.

“You’re not sleeping in a sleeping bag every time you stay here,” Jensen tells him. “You guys can take my car, if you want. Get everything you need. _Including_ a bed.”

“And a playstation?” he asks, smiling widely at Misha. 

“Don’t push your luck,” they both answer and Kyle heaves a dramatic sigh, before he gets up to start running up and down the hallway. It’s long and it’s straight and the buffed wood floors make it easy to slide out when you’re wearing socks. Kyle’s already got two bruises and there’s a dent in the far wall.

Misha smiles at Jensen and passes him a fortune cookie.

 _A new happiness is just around the corner_.

Yeah, okay. He can work with that.

“What does yours say?” he asks Misha.

Misha puts the little white slip of paper down on the table and pushes it toward Jensen.

 _Buy American_ it says, and Jensen laughs so hard his stomach hurts.

***

For the next three weeks, Jensen drives himself crazy, worrying, wondering, imaging how things might have been different.

Turns out, it’s all well and good to _say_ that your marriage is over, even to know in your heart that it’s true. But to actually put it in writing, to make it inarguably, permanently _legal_ is a whole different story.

Especially so, since it wasn’t really their choice. They didn’t try and fail, they didn’t drift apart, there were no _irreconcilable differences_. Their marriage was _taken_ from them, fate and fortune and a faulty propeller.

What if Jensen had taken Kyle to the park _before_ lunch, instead of after, that early spring Saturday, a year and half ago? What if Jared had been just a few seconds faster, or slower and Kyle had never beaned him with his baseball?

What if he’d been selfish three years ago and insisted that Misha stay home with him, what if he’d never let him get on that plane?

What if any single tiny detail in a whole line of tiny details had been different, what if Misha never left, what if his plane never crashed, what if Jensen had never met Jared, what if he’d waited just a little longer before moving on?

And he’s only known Jared for a year and half. He was with Misha for _four years_ and they have a _son_ together. How does he know this is the right thing? How does he know, how can he be one hundred percent certain, that being with Jared is what he really wants?

He goes over it and over it, feels guilty and then feels guilty for feeling guilty. He has conversations, arguments, half in his head and half out loud. He stays up all night, restless and twitchy because he can’t sleep, can’t get his mind to shut up for five freakin’ minutes.

Jared stops spending the night after the first few days, stops coming over altogether a few days later. He’s not angry, but Jensen’s twitchiness is making Jared twitchy and he tells Jensen to call him once he chills the fuck out.

Jensen calls him over two days later and promises to keep his freak outs internal and infrequent.

Jared rolls his eyes and kisses Jensen and they take Kyle shopping for a new backpack for back to school.

Christ, it’ll be September in two days. Where the hell did the summer go?

***

The divorce becomes official on the Thursday of the first week of school.

And when it does, Jensen doesn’t feel like the wreck he’d sort of been thinking he might. He doesn’t feel uneasy, doesn’t feel nervous, doesn’t for one second think he’s done anything but entirely the right thing.

It’s done, it’s final and instead of feeling nostalgic or lonely or regretful, he’s _excited_. He’s with Jared now, can really finally _be_ with Jared now, ask him to move in again, get on with building their life together.

He feels good about Misha, he feels good about Kyle and for the first time in months he feels like everything is just as it should be.

Jared has the weekend off and Kyle’s spending it at Misha’s house, so Jensen figures Saturday is as good a day as any to share the news. He cooks, Jared picks up a nice bottle of wine and supper that night is mellow, warm. Jensen presses his foot up against Jared’s under the table and Jared smiles at him and brushes Jensen’s hand with his knuckles when he passes Jensen the salad.

They talk about their days – Jensen took Kyle to Misha’s house and ended up getting roped into helping move about eight hundred pounds of cherry and oak wood from the back deck to Misha’s basement, Jared slept in and had peanut butter from the jar for lunch, while he watched six episodes of _Storage Wars_ \- and that’s… a pretty good segue, really.

Jared could do all that here just as easily as he could in his tiny little apartment.

Jensen clears his throat as he stands and takes their empty dishes from the table. There’s dessert, a strawberry shortcake he made, but that can wait. He slips his hand into his pocket and he can feel the sleek black box with the tips of his fingers. He takes a deep breath and pulls it out, puts it down on the table in front of Jared.

Jared looks at it, completely unimpressed and then looks back at Jensen.

It could be anything in there, but Jared obviously thinks it’s a key. That’s what it was six months ago, when Jensen first asked him to move in. Jared had almost had a heart attack when he first saw the little black jewelry box in Jensen’s hand, thought it was something else entirely until Jensen made him open it. Jared had laughed in relief, smacked Jensen in the chest for fucking with him like that and then Jensen coaxed four orgasms out of Jared (a personal best) before they finally passed out.

“If you don’t want to open it right away, that’s cool,” Jensen tells him, sitting back down. “I’ve got some things to say, first.”

“Jensen, I still have a key, you know. If you want me to move back in… I mean, you _do_ want me to move in, right?”

“Of course I do. That’s not… okay, just let me talk.”

Jared looks at him a little funny, but he nods.

“I’m a free man,” he starts with, offering Jared a small, honest smile. “Divorce came through two days ago.”

“Wow. Jensen, that’s great. I know you’ve been having kind of a weird time lately, though. Are you… okay?”

“I am,” Jensen answers. “I mean, I wasn’t really sure how I’d feel about it, when it finally became real.”

Jared snorts. “Yeah, no shit. I think at one point you had yourself convinced that you were making a huge mistake. I actually… I almost thought you might change your mind.”

“No, I wasn’t making a mistake,” Jensen tells him, with a sharp shake of his head. “I never thought that, not really. I feel… Good, Jared. Really good. Before I felt… I don’t know. Guilty, I guess? I mean, why you? Why would I choose you?” 

Jared opens his mouth on a no doubt indignant reply, but Jensen shushes him with a wave of his hand.

“Not that there’s anything _wrong_ with you, that’s not what I’m saying. I just… why do I get to ditch my husband, this amazing, understanding guy, this guy who used to be the love of my life, who I spent four years with and have a son with. Why do I get to just say all that’s over because of someone I’ve only been serious with for six months?”

It’s closer to a year now, but still.

“That’s… a really good question, Jensen,” Jared says. “That’s sort of what I was wondering, when you first told me Misha was alive. I was so sure you would go back to him.”

“You know what? That never even crossed my mind.” Jensen smiles again and nudges at the black box with the tip of his index finger. “And that’s why I get to do it. That’s why I get to pick you. Because I just knew, because I didn’t care how much time we’d put in, I just knew that I loved you. I fell madly in love with Misha in less than a week. Knew I wanted to spend my whole life with him two months later. 

“But then he went away. He _left_ me, I thought for good. And my heart changed. You were there when I needed someone, Jared. You were exactly what I needed when I needed it. You have been, this whole time and you still are. I can’t ever imagine that not being the case. I fell in love with you because of exactly who you are. I’m falling more and more in love with you every single day, because of exactly who you are. From here on out, it’s only ever gonna be you for me.”

Jared’s blinking rapidly now, his eyes are glistening and turning red and he sniffles and then swats at Jensen’s hand where it’s still resting on the table, next to the box.

“Asshole. You’re gonna make me cry.”

“Open the box,” is all Jensen says.

Jared does.

END


End file.
